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What I have to be thankful for...

by Toby Johnston

I groaned and pulled my pillow over my head, trying to blot out the offensive sunlight streaming in my bedroom window which clearly faced to the east. It was way too early to be awake, even if we had to be up and out to get me registered for school. I made a mental note to bug Mom for blinds, amongst everything else she was probably thinking about for our new home. Of course, I could always pull the 'duct tape and newspaper' move I'd pulled back when we moved to Germany four years ago. Shocker, Mom was horrified and I had blinds by the end of the day!

Finally admitting defeat, I rolled over and blinked a few times to let my eyes get used to the light and looked around the unfamiliar room—bubble gum pink, guess my predecessor was a girl. Or maybe not, might have been a really flamboyant gay kid—as opposed to me…Mr. Normal, way in the back of the closet gay kid—'Hi, I'm Max. Nice to meet you. Me, just a normal kid, oh…except I'm really thinking about wanting to suck your dick…you're cool with that right?'

Either way, I was going to have to paint and make this room mine. That and deal with these boxes piled everywhere yet to be unpacked. I'm a pro with the packing-unpacking thing, so no worries. This was our fifth move in my lifetime. Seems like every three years, Dad got a new job. When I was little that worried me, I thought he was a screw up who kept getting fired. Mom had to explain to me that he was actually really good at what he did—'turning around companies' (whatever that really meant). Boston, to Charleston, to Washington, to Munich, and now Philadelphia—new home, new school, new friends. Or new acquaintances anyway, I don't do well with goodbyes. I bawled my eyes out as I left my friends. By the third big move I had a new Prime Directive—I will not let anyone get close. It's too painful when you have to say goodbye. That rule worked fine for a while, but now I'm not so sure. Puberty has fucked up everything. Now I want someone, someone close.

We'd arrived late yesterday and barely had time to get moved in and get the beds made before hitting the sack. Like any good 15-year-old, I 'christened' my bed before going to sleep—thank God I was uncut, I hadn't had to dig through 12 boxes to find my lube! With I groan I heaved myself out of bed and headed off to christen the shower (what self-respecting boy doesn't have a christening check off list!). My new bathroom had a full-length mirror opposite the shower…nice, I could watch myself showering (and yes, doing that too you perves!).

I looked back at myself as I washed up. Not too shabby I thought. I liked to think of myself as lean, not skinny. Mom says I'm 'wirey' like my dad and Opa Eicke—not sure if 'wirey' is a good thing or not. I definitely had strong legs…all that football…no, now I needed to call it 'soccer' right? Upper body was a bit scrawny though. I needed to do something about that. At least I had abs, but then what would you expect with no body fat. Out of the shower and dry, I grabbed some product to style my blond locks…gotta look good for first day of school right? I even decided to shave—though I had barely a hint of hair on my upper lip.

A button down, nice khakis and loafers and I was ready to take on the day. Mom was already in the kitchen when I came down, cooking up a feast of bacon and eggs! I was digging in eagerly when Dad came in, giving me his usual ruffling of the hair and…wait for it…"And so a new adventure begins!"

Dad took his coffee to go and headed off to his new company. Mom and I cleaned up the kitchen and headed off to Haverford Prep where I would be a sophomore. At least I was getting there on the first day of classes. The school—like our house—was stone. I guess they must have had a lot of stone lying around. It looked nice—kind of majestic I guess. We headed into the administrative offices where an old lady came to the counter to assist us.

Mom smiled, "Hi. Madeline Eicke. We need to get Max here all signed up. You should have some paperwork already on him".

"Max, is that short for Maxwell?

"Umm. No Ma'am. It's Maximillian," I responded.

"Maximillian. Ahhh, here we go—Maximillian Icky"

"Eye-key, Ma'am. Ei-cke. It's pronounced EYE-key"

"Maximillian EYE-key. Well, that's quite a mouthful!' she giggled. I cringed and counted myself lucky we didn't need to deal with my middle name.

I was used to it though. Before the day was over, the more sophisticated of the bullies would key in on my last name and make the great mental leap from EYE-cke to Icky. It was inevitable. At least my last name wasn't Zits, like poor Albert Zits back at my old school—his situation made even worse by his acne.

A very slow, painful hour followed. Forms being passed back and forth between Mom and the office lady. Then we had to wait a bit before finally ushered into the Assistant Headmaster's office. He seemed nice. He actually pronounced my name properly, so he had that going for him. He'd put together a course load for me, we iterated a bit. Finally, he printed it off and handed it to me. "How 'bout we get you off to your second period class while I chat with your mom a bit".

He had one of the student interns walk me to my second period, Biology, which of course had started already. He knocked on the door and ushered me in. The teacher Mr. Welsch paused as we entered and I got handed over. The room was set up in lab table of two people each, all of who's eyes staring at moi. The teacher seemed nice enough, youngish, bearded, okay, yeah hot body (not that I noticed!).

"Welcome to Haverford Prep and Biology, Mr. Eicke. How about you introduce yourself and then we'll dive back into the overview of the term."

I was ready for that. I'd been through this drill often enough that I had my 'elevator speech' at my fingertips. Max Eicke (emphasis on the Eye…but I could see the pair of guys at the lab table in the back already leaning in and laughing…score one for the luddites); youngest of five kids; finishing by rattling off where I'd lived.

"Germany? So, let me see. Um…Ich nehme an du sprichst Deutsch?"

I grinned, "Ja, ich spreche ein bisschen Deutsch."

"Excellent! Well, how about you take a seat up here with Mr. MacLeod and we'll dive into the syllabus and our first lab."

As I came around the front of the class, I saw a table in front I hadn't noticed at first as it sat lower than the rest. That's when I saw those eyes. Blue eyes. Like really blue. I have blue eyes, but they're more pale blue. Mr. MacLeod's eyes were like electric blue eyes—even more brilliant against his black hair.

He smiled as I moved up to the desk, that's when I realized why the desk was low—he was in a wheelchair. I was still mesmerized by those blue eyes (did I mention how bright blue they are??!!), when I realized he was holding his hand out.

"Oh sorry," I reached out and shook it (hmm…his hands were really callused), "Max. Max Eicke."

He kind of smirked, "Umm yeah. I know. You just introduced yourself. I'm Ian. Ian MacLeod." (Great. I'm just meeting the kid and coming off like an amazing dork).

Fortunately, Mr. Welsch started pontificating, so that got everyone's attention. It seemed he was starting the semester off with a lab project we had to do with our partners—dissecting a big ass earthworm (which apparently is also known as an Annelida…sure make it easy scientists!). At least the worm was dead already, that saved me a PTSD trauma event like the time Dad tried to take me fishing at age 4. I was all excited as we dug up the worms and put them in a can; skipping as we made our way out onto the dock. But horrified when Dad handed me a worm and told me to stick it on that hook!

"But it'll hurt him!" I'd cried. Poor Dad tried to explain to me that the worm didn't really have feelings, but I told him he lied when I started to put it on and it jerked. I made him dig a hole and put all the worms back in the ground, carefully covering them over so they'd be okay. Dad tried to recover the day, sacrificing part of a bologna sandwich for bait. My hook had been in the water about 30 seconds when it occurred to me that the fish would be biting the hook and would get hurt too. I yanked my rod out of the water and made Dad do the same. We spent the rest of the afternoon 'looking' at fish and dropping bologna to them for lunch. We never went fishing again.

Ian and I set to work, slicing the worm open and then drawing what we saw. We actually made a pretty good team, I draw a lot, so my picture was way better than his. I wished I'd had brought a set of real pencils to school, then I really would have rocked this picture! On the flip side, he clearly knew way more about biology than I did—we'd just gotten our text books and it seemed like he'd read it cover to cover already. Between the two of us we had a rough draft of our report sketched out pretty quickly and had time to spare. Ian whispered for my schedule, comparing it to his. Looked like we had four classes together; then he weighted toward science stuff as opposed to my history and government.

When the bell rang for the end of the period, everyone bolted up and out, but Ian just took his time. "Better for me to hang back and let the cattle get out of the way; otherwise then tend to not see me and I get bumped around."

That just seemed wrong, how could people be so oblivious? "That's cool, I'll wait with you," I happily offered. It was a little awkward as we waited. I couldn't keep my eyes off him, but I didn't want to be obvious that I was staring.

We walked to English class together, split up for fourth period but agreed to meet for lunch. As I walked off towards class, I glanced back to see Ian watching me—we locked eyes, and both of us grinned (which was way cool and seriously embarrassing at the same time).

Lunch was fun. Ian and I met up and then I sat with his crowd for lunch—a nice mix of boys and girls that all seemed nice and pulled me into the conversation. The rest of the day was a bit of a blur, though we did have two more classes together. At the end of the day, we hooked up for study hall, right before sports. We did some more work on our worm report and then worked on other homework. Ian heled me through some of my math homework—never my strong suit. I kept sneaking glances over at Ian, I was seriously crushing on him, what can I say. I thought I was being subtle, but I guess not.

He was staring down at his homework and he just quietly said, "Two years."

I cocked my head and arched an eyebrow (Dad calls it my 'curious puppy look'), "What?"

"Two years. I've been in this chair two years. ATV accident. It flipped on me and crushed my lower spine."

"Oh wow, that sucks."

He shrugged, "At least I'm alive, it could have been worse. I can walk, a little, with canes or help. But to really get around I need my Hot Wheels here. I do physical therapy every day instead of sports, can't play football anymore."

"You played football, as in American football. Like smashing into each other?"

"Yeah, you ever played?"

"Tossed the ball around, but I play European football—soccer. Not into getting run over by a steamroller!"

"Yeah? I used to be the guy putting 'em in the dirt! All part of the game."

"So, you could walk, like to the stacks?" I asked, nodding towards the bookshelves.

He gave me a look, "Now?"

"Yeah now," I said with a bit of a challenge in my voice, "It's good practice, right?"

He laughed, "I suppose. But you'd have to help me. I don't have my canes."

I stood up. "Ok how do we do this?"

"You have to help lift me up," he said, rolling back and planting both feet on the ground.

I leaned over, slipping my arms under his pits and pulling him up. I wasn't ready when he kind of tilted forward and he ended up sort of falling against me so we were basically hugging. First thing I thought was 'wow, that feels nice'; then I thought was 'wow, he smells nice' (Baby Powder…Baby Powder and…Ian I think); then I thought 'wow, his upper body feels pretty ripped; then I thought 'oh shit, I'm thinking too much and still hugging him, I can't be doing that!'

As I steadied him, I looked up, and up, and up. I was stunned to realize he was tall, like a good 6" taller than me. "Wow, you're tall!" I stammered, stating the patently obvious.

"Yeah, when I'm not sitting down," he smirked.

"Guess I'm putting my arm around your waist rather than over your shoulder like I thought!"

I pulled him in close, his arm draped over my shoulder and we made our way to the stacks. It was kind of awkward at first, but then we got in a rhythm. Our hips were glued together, and my fingertips were resting right on his obliques. I could feel them moving under his shirt. I started to get hard (ok…I always get hard, sue me…I hoped he couldn't tell)

It was rough, but eventually we made it to the stacks. I turned us into the first row (figuring I shouldn't push him too far) and scanned the books—everything was about economics, ugh. Ian started giggling as I clearly struggled with a selection, finally grabbing something about hyperinflation.

"Are you really going to read that?" he laughed as we lurched back to our table.

"Of course!" I responded, refusing to admit defeat. I didn't. It stayed on the table when we left for the athletic center at the end of the period. I did get him to agree to a 'daily walk' though—day 1, walk 1.

I grabbed my gym bag from my locker and accompanied Ian over to the gym. We parted ways when we met his physical therapist Anthony out front—the guy looked like a pro linebacker, seriously the biggest African-American guy I've ever met. I think his arms are bigger than my thighs. All I could think about is that I'd bet he could easily bench press both of us together and then some.

I got changed into my old soccer kit from my German school and walked with Danny Sterling—one of the kids I'd met at lunch—out to the soccer fields. There was a mass of boys out there, all trying out for the varsity or junior varsity teams. The coaches ran us through a bunch of conditioning drills—I was loving the wind sprints; then moved on to ball handling; and eventually a scrimmage.

Have to say I more than held my own on the field, not to brag, but four years of German football had raised my level of play compared to American soccer. A couple of the coaches came up and chatted with me during the practice, asking about my experience, positions and stuff. I'm a lefty and left foot dominant, so I'd always played either left wing or left mid.

They must have listened, as they put me at left wing for the entire scrimmage. I managed a goal and two assists—not too shabby. The only downside of the day was this one defender that I swear was trying to end my soccer career. He kept trying to slide tackle me, even after I'd passed off the ball. I had to jump to avoid his cleats! I didn't know his name, but I recognized him from Biology class—he was going to be a problem.

I caught back up with Ian as everyone was heading to the circle for parent pick-up. I don't know what it is, but he just makes me smile and feel all gooey inside. Actually, that's a lie, I know exactly why. I'm crushing on the guy…sigh. Still, it was nice to see him at the end of the day.

I guess Mom saw us talking, as she asked about 'the boy in the wheelchair' on the ride home. I gave her a full run down on the day—how we'd met in biology right off the back, had some classes together, the whole walking thing. She noted that it looked like I'd made my first friend, which of course made me grin like an idiot.

I hopped out of the car in front of our house, but then I stopped. I slowly tilted my head up as I looked at our house in a whole new light. We had way too many steps. Our house sat up on a slight rise, I count the steps for the first time. Fifteen, and that was just to the front lawn. Then it was another six to the front porch. Ian would never be able to come over; or if he did, I'd have to drag him up those stairs. (an image of me dragging Ian feet first up the stairs, his head bouncing off each step flitted in my mind…I'm a weird kid)

"What's going on in that mind of yours Max?"

"We have too many steps mom."

"For your new friend to get inside the house?"

The two of us stood there for a moment, me wondering if you could lower a house. Mom coming up with a far simpler solution, "Ian could come in through the garage, the driveway's a ramp and then it's only one step up into the house."

We parted company there. Mom going in the normal way; me diverting to the garage. Eyeing the slope of the driveway and trying to figure out how difficult it would be to traverse. Then I slowly walked through the garage. I was going to have to spend some time in here rearranging, it was a jumble of 'stuff' from the move (some of it marked 'Charleston' and 'Boston'). The door into the house seemed wide enough, though I made a mental note to measure it and then figure out the width of Ian's wheelchair.

From there, I methodically stepped through the house, noting doorways, obstacles, and anything else that might impede Ian negotiating his way about. The stairs to the second floor, and therefore my room, were obviously unavoidable if we were to hang out alone. I wondered if he could handle stairs; if not, I'd give him a piggy back ride (note to self—start doing some squats!

My initial assessment of the house completed, I changed into shorts and a t-shirt and settled down in my pink room to finish my homework. I quickly cranked through the boring stuff and then pulled out paper and colored pencils to do a more thorough version of our dissected worm. I really preferred to work in grays with graphite pencils and charcoal, but this picture needed to be color coded. Soon enough, I had a full-page drawing completed—hopefully Ian will be impressed. I also spent some time researching on spinal injuries—I wanted to understand what had happened to Ian and what he might or might not be capable of doing. I even found some cool Paralympian guys to follow on Instagram.

Not only was Ian impressed, but Mr. Welsch as well. He held up Ian's and my report as a 'great example of the combining of art and science'! Looks like our lab partnership was firmly cemented. The next few weeks seemed to fly by. We'd been to each other's houses—the garage path worked fine and yes, Ian was able to make it upstairs to my room. He even helped me paint it—a solid 'boy' shade of blue-grey. Ian handled the lower parts, while I took the uppers. Who knew painting could be sexy?! I was reaching up to get a high point right next to Ian and I guess my t-shirt rode up. Next thing I knew, he'd swiped the roller across my abs! Of course, I had to retaliate, so I got him on the nose. He was laughing as he protested that I'd escalated the battle, so I swiped the paint off his nose and lifted his t-shirt to rub it on his abs. (okay, that was seriously hot rubbing my paint covered fingers across those abs). I think something might have even happened right then if my dad hadn't walked by and interrupted us.

Ian and I were quickly becoming thick as thieves. Whoever got to school first would wait outside for the other, and I think his grin when he saw me was almost as big as mine. We'd share these little glances throughout the day, grinning every time like we had some little secret. We'd do the walk to the stacks and back every day during study hall. All this time, little guardian angel on my shoulder was going apoplectic, trying to remind me of my 'keep 'em all as acquaintances rule'. But as time went on, I was listening to it less and less.

All in all, things were going pretty well. I was missing Germany less and less. I'd been easily accepted into Ian's circle of friends. I seemed to be handling the course load pretty well. I was rocking German of course—the teacher appreciate that I was up on all the latest slang. I was even surviving Algebra II thanks to Ian's patient tutoring. Soccer was good and bad—good that I was playing really well on the left wing; bad in that Jason Spaulding (aka dickhead from Biology) seemed bound and determined to end my soccer career with a sliding tackle. It seemed like every practice, I was doing an air dance to avoid his cleats as he slide by.

As the saying goes, I had to be right 100% of the time and he only had to be right once. Thursday before our first game, he finally connected and I ended rolling on the ground holding my ankle (and not in an Arjen Robben kind of way…I'm talking real injury)!

He said he was sorry, but I could see him smirk towards Dennis Lansing—his cohort in crime—so lots of sincerity there. Of course, the coach blew his whistle, chewed him out that it would be a Red Card in a real game, and made him run laps…but that didn't fix my ankle. Danny got called over to help me to the Trainers to get it looked at, but I knew I wasn't going to be playing Saturday.

Danny's a nice kid—part of Ian's crowd, now my crowd. He's probably the shortest kid in the class, but he makes up for it by talking. I mean like he never shuts up, and today was no different.

"He did it on purpose you know."

"Clearly. I don't know why he's got is out for me. I barely know the guy and he's been out to get me from day one."

"You're better than his boyfriend at left wing. He doesn't want you to take his spot!"

"Boyfriend? You mean Dennis? They're gay?"

"Not officially, but I think so. They act all homophobic, but they're always looking goofy eyed at each other, they sit next to each other all the time and rub their legs together under the table. Straight guys don't do that."

"You notice all that?"

"I notice a lot. People don't pay any attention to me because I'm still small. They think I'm just a little kid. But I'm not, and I watch. You can tell a lot if you just watch people, especially if they don't know you're watching."

I laughed, kind of nervously, "You're dangerous."

"Not to the good guys, he smiled, "Like I know you really like Ian, though I'm not sure if it just because you're friends or if it's because you're sweet on him."

I blushed and sputtered, "What????" (yeah, nicely played Max!)

"Hmmm, ok that's a new data point," he grinned, "I suspect Max might be protesting too much! But don't worry, I wouldn't tell anyone anyway. Like I said, I'm not dangerous to the good guys. Besides Ian really likes you too."

"He does?" I asked, forgetting about my ankle and wincing as the pain shot up my leg.

"Oh yeah. You should see how he looks at you, especially when you don't know it. Even more than you do him. You're good for him. I haven't seen Ian smile this much since his accident, and you've got him walking more too. If he likes you, then I like you."

"I do really like him," I said softly. That was as far as I was going to admit to anyone at this point.

"Ian's really important to me Max. He's always been my friend since we started here back in 3rd grade. Before his accident, he was always my protector 'cause I'd get bullied just for being small. It's been really tough for him since his accident. So, if you are sweet on him Max, don't fuck it up—or you'll have me to contend with."

Not that I was planning on fucking anything up, but I don't think I want to have to contend with Danny either—even if he is small. And why would Danny say 'sweet on him'? Fortunately, this line of discussion ended as we'd arrived at the Trainer's office—a grizzled old guy who looked up as we came in.

"What happened to him?", he growled at Danny—apparently thinking my injury affected speech as well.

"Jason Spaulding happened to him," was all Danny said.

He just shook his head, "That kid's a one-man wrecking crew. Keeps me in business though, put him on the table."

"Okay. I'm heading back, don't want my seat on the bench to get cold," Danny grinned, "Remember what I said!"

He headed back to practice, while the trainer went to work on my ankle. It hurt like a son of a bitch, especially when he grabbed it and twisted it every which way.

"You trying to finish what Spaulding started Doc?"

He chuckled, "You're fine kid. Just a severe sprain. You'll be outta action for a week, probably two."

My eyes followed him as he shot back across the floor like a pinball on his little roller stool, gather supplies and then setting to work wrapping my ankle. Then he grabbed a form off his desk, jotted a few notes, and handed it to me along with a pair of crutches.

"Off you go lad. You're done for the day. I'll let your coach know your status. Check back in a week and well see how you're doing."

I started hobbling down the hall towards the locker room, but then I saw the weight room where Ian does his PT and decided to swing by. The whole wall along the corridor was windows, so it was easy to spy Ian working his way between a pair of parallel bars as Anthony gave him encouragement. I leaned on my crutches and watched as he worked to move his legs that didn't want to be moved.

He was sweating up a storm. Shirt drenched, his arm muscles flexing. He seemed so focused, so determined, so fierce. As he got to the end, he looked up and saw me and it's like he got injected with a shot of, ummm, 'relaxed-straightness'—he just seemed to stand taller. I saw that beautiful smile burst across his face, his eyes lighting up—which of course triggered my silly ass grin. He gave me a little wave and I waved a crutch back, that made him frown and he waved me to come in.

"Spaulding" was all I had to say to the unasked question…he rolled he eyes.

"I got one more tortuous turn on this if you want to watch my sorry ass walk."

"I don't think it's 'sorry'. I was watching from out there. I've never seen someone work so hard, way more than we're doing out on the soccer field. You're so focused, determined, brave. Ummm, indomitable. Like the SAS—who dare's wins!"

Ian laughed, "SAS? Maybe I'll parachute in with my wheelchair. But thanks…no one's ever said that to me before!"

Anthony looked offended "What??? I've been telling you that for the past year…what am I? NO one?"

Ian laughed, "No, you're my trainer. You have to be encouraging. Max is my friend."

I watched as Ian navigated through his last lap—trying to send him cheerleading thought waves as he went. Of course, I was also scoping him out. His t-shirt had the sleeves hacked off so you could see his shoulders. With each step, his muscles got these striations which were really sexy (I wondered if he'd mind if I just leaned in and licked each groove…). There was still a good bit of time to go in PT, so Anthony shifted Ian over to lifting—seems it was chest/tri day.

Anthony invited me to lift with Ian which was totally cool—a. 'cause it was with Ian; and b. 'cause I really wanted to not be so scrawny with my upper body. The event was pretty humbling though. Ian could bench way more than I could, Anthony had to take weight off the bar so I could even get it off the bench.

Both of them were really encouraging though, so I made it through the workout without too much damage to my fragile teen psyche. Ian offered that I could shower and change with him, so I crutch-ran to the locker room to grab my gear. My dick and I had a serious heart to heart to on the way back, I was adamant that he shall not get too excited.

'Ok here's the deal. I'm going to see him naked, and you will NOT get excited.'

'Nah ah. WE'RE going to see him naked and I'm going to get SO excited—like steel hard!"

'No. You're not. You cannot betray me here. Stay chill!'

'Betray you?! This is how it worked in Germany. Boy gets hard. Boy sees hard. Boys jerk off!'

'This isn't Germany. This is different. You cannot get hard.'

'But it's not different…it's just another boy'

'No, he's not. I really like this boy. I'm falling in love with this boy.…if you get hard it'll ruin everything…'

By now I was nearing the door, and my terror of getting hard had its physiological effect. I could feel little Max wilting.

'You're a party pooper'

'Just stay down, please'


I arrived back at the coach's mini-locker room that Ian used and tried the door—locked, so I knocked softly. Ian unlocked the door, letting me in then relocking it behind me (ha, that made my heart skip a beat!).

"Sorry, didn't mean to lock you out. I'm kind of shy about my scars," he said softly as he stripped of his shirt.

"They really don't look to bad," I offered, seeing a couple of scars across his abs, then he turned around and I bit my lip as I saw his back—it was a Jackson Pollock of scars. Without even thinking, I reached out and gently touched his back. He stiffened at first, but then relax as I traced lightly across his back.

"Pretty ugly huh?"

"I don't think so," I said softly, "My Opa says 'Scars are a badge of honor. They prove that you have persevered over adversity. His whole left shoulder and arm is scarred—oil burns."

"What's an Opa?"

"My Grandpa Eicke. He's the first Max. He came from the Old Country--Germany."

"How did he get his scars?

"Oil fire. He was mechanic on a U-Boat and they got depth charged. But Ian, I don't think I ever really consciously thought about his scars. He's had them as long as I've been around obviously. I just think of them as part of Opa. He still picks me up and swings me around, or at least he used to—he's getting smaller and I'm getting bigger."

"Whoa, wait a minute. Your Opa was on a U-boat. Like German army in WWII U-boat?"

"Well, German Navy. But yeah. He was German so…"

"So how did he get to America?"

"POW, his U-boat got captured. They all got sent to Kansas. He spent the war working on a farm. That's how he met Oma—he was working on her dad's farm. He says he's the guy they made all the 'farmer's daughter' jokes about."

"I didn't think U-boats got captured. Thought they always just sunk."

"Yeah. Opa got lucky I guess. His boat was U-505. It's pretty famous. Some huge intelligence coup for the Allies. They captured some coding machine and code books, let them know what the Germans were planning. The U-Boat's at a museum in Chicago. We went when I was little—pretty wild to see my Opa's bunk!"

I tried not to be too obvious looking at Ian as he stripped and got ready for his the shower. I could see why he could easily lift more than I—he was seriously ripped, at least his upper body was. He had that V that went from shoulders to waist—not like my beanpole straight body.

I couldn't keep my mouth shut and blurted, "Damn Ian, you're seriously ripped. You have like real muscles…your shoulders, chest. I'm frickin scrawny compared to you."

He blushed, "Yeah well I do a lot of upper body work, kind of have to." Then he leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "Besides, don't tell anyone but I've been skipping leg day for the past two years."

I giggled, then shuddered as I felt his warm breath by my ear, "Yeah, but I don't have muscles like you do."

"Well, you're not scrawny," his eyes roamed up and down, "You're just lean. You have muscles too." He looked like he was going to reach out and touch my abs (which I do have!), but then he hesitated, turned, and lurched into the shower.

Yeah, my eyes followed him the whole way. For a guy who's been skipping leg day, he still had a cute butt. He left the curtain open and we chatted the whole time he showered. I'm pretty much a pro at watching guys in the shower, when to look, when to appear busy. So yeah, I made the most of the show. His boy parts seemed to be fine, at least he had everything—and it looked bigger than I am, at least soft…maybe he's a 'shower'. I couldn't see any scars but I was a few feet away and the water kept coursing down his dick (which I think is seriously sexy).

I handed him his towel as he got out and took my turn. I prayed that he was looking at me like I did him. At least I gave him plenty of opportunities to if he were interested. I made sure to give him front and back views; leaning back to wash the shampoo out of my hair views; and shaking the water out of my hair views (I wear my blond hair kinda long).

He was pretty much dressed by the time I got out. Ian definitely had a system. He kind of got everything on while he sat on the bench, then he leveraged himself up to tuck everything in and make it look right. He certainly didn't need any help from me, and I was trying to be careful about not offering too much help (my online research said you need to be careful about making someone feel too needy).

I, on the other hand, needed lots of help. I got dressed fine, but the ankle wrap was thwarting me. Ian laughed at my pitiful attempt. Okay, maybe it did look like the present I wrapped for Dad when I was four. I'd used a whole roll of paper and still didn't cover the shoebox sized package.

Ian made me sit down on the bench, and he took my foot in his lap—that's when my dick forgot about our earlier discussion (Like any of you would have done better). He was touching all over my foot and calf. It felt really nice and was sending shivers all through my body. I had to lean forward to try to cover the bulge as my hardon snaked it way up my khakis. I had to carry my blazer in front of me as we walked out to the circle until I calmed back down.

"If you're serious about doing some lifting, you could come and work out with Anthony and I."

My heart was screaming 'oh God yes', but I tried to play it cool, "Might as well, I can't play soccer for at least a week." (Turns out that worked out like a charm! Anthony and the trainer okayed it, and I got two weeks of 'weight training' with Ian—oh, and showers haha!)

We stopped next to Ian's car and were chatting when I saw my mom coming towards us like a MOM (mom on a mission). Ian spied her and immediately set his break, hoisting himself up so he was standing when she got to us. I stifled a laugh as I saw her eyes go wide as she realized how tall he actually was. Naturally, Ian's mom had to get out of the car to say hi too. They did the mom-chat thing which was pretty embarrassing—so nice to meet you, all we've been hearing about is Max this and Max that; really at our house, it's 'the world revolves around Ian'.

Then the planets aligned in the best way. I'd been trying to figure out a way to do a sleep over at Ian's, but didn't want to be rude and invite myself. Okay, it's possible I way over think things—maybe I should have just suggested it, but that's me. Mom finally begged off and said we had to be going so she and dad could get packed up.

At that, Ian whipped his head around, "Your parents are traveling?"

"Just for Saturday night. Some event in Philly."

"You wanna come over? You could spend the night. If you want…"

I'd like to say I have a great poker face, but I so do not. I couldn't say yes fast enough, and so noon on Saturday found me being dropped off at the MacLeod's as the 'rents headed into the city. Ian's room was at the back of the first floor. It was a seriously sweet room. I think it was a converted family room—one whole wall had these casement windows and French doors that opened out on to the pool deck. The pool was heated since Ian used it for PT, so we decided a swim was in order.

Of course, I hadn't brought a suit (cue the boom chika wah wah music haha—no, it didn't unfold that way). I borrowed one from Ian that barely hung on my narrow hips (yeah, that did lead to the one major embarrassment of the day). I helped Ian with the whole chair-crane contraption that lowered him into the water. Call me twisted, but all I could think about as I lowered him into the water was the Salem Witch Trial discussion we'd had the previous week in history class. So as the water came up to his chest, I muttered 'Now we'll find out if you're a witch or not!'

In my defense, he did think it was funny too and laughed as he used his kick-board to start his laps. That's when I figured I'd be studly and dive in—a perfectly executed pike dive if I do say so myself—except that it left my borrowed suit floating behind me on the water.

Ian howled and made a few cat calls while I swam back for my suit. So, of course, I had to put on a show and made a few flips in the water, showing off my lily-white butt. I did mange to get the suit back on, this time pulling the strings tighter to make sure it stayed on. We spent a good hour in the pool, even playing some grab ass which was way fun. There was as serious amount of touching going on—and even a little groping. I don't know if he felt the sexual tension in the pool, but I sure did on my side. I so wanted to just grab him and plant a kiss on his lips—but I chickened out.

It's not like I'd never done stuff before with a boy. I'd learned a lot the last summer before we moved to Germany. I'd spent it with Oma and Opa out in Kansas. They'd had ten kids including my dad, and most of the Eicke clan still lived close. Opa liked to say you couldn't swing a dead squirrel without hitting and Eicke. My cousin Henry was a year older, and he taught me how to jerk off. But he also told me to be wary of 'queers'. I'd reached out to touch him but he smacked my hand away and 'splained how that was wrong. I'd had a few jerkoff sessions with boys in Germany too, but it was clear no touching was allowed.

We took turns in the shower—which was a little odd because the bathroom was all set-up for Ian. The toilet had one of those really high seats which I had to test out—my feet couldn't even reach the ground! We hung out in his room the rest of the afternoon playing Hell Let Loose which is an awesome WWII first person shooter game. Ian made me play as a German the whole time, and he kicked my ass. We snarfed down dinner with his parents—probably too fast and impolitely, but we wanted to get back to the game.

Finally, it was time to hit the sack—which made me excited and terrified at the same time. I'd convinced myself that I would be fine just 'sleeping close to him in the same bed'. We'd done the whole toothbrush thing and were bed wearing just our boxer-briefs watching videos on his laptop. Obviously, I wanted more than that—I just didn't know how to make that happen.

We were just sort of randomly clicking when I spied one on Prince Harry and the Invictus games (those are the wounded warrior games in case you've been living under a rock). The competitors had all kinds of injuries, some missing limbs, some with injuries like Ian's. We were both pretty quiet while we watched. I kept getting teared up a little—what can I say, I get real emotional about that kind of thing. They had interviews with the service men and women; and in some cases, their families. That's when I showed I can be a total moron sometimes. They were talking to a warrior and his wife, and it was obvious they'd recently had kids—made no sense to me as he was paralyzed 'from the waist down'.

I guess my confusion was too obvious, 'cause Ian paused the video and looked at me, "Max just because he can't use his legs, doesn't mean he can't have sex."

"But he's paralyzed from the waist down so how does it, you know, get hard?"

He put his head in his hand, "Max, I'm technically paralyzed from the waist down. But trust me, my stuff works. I get hard-ons just like you do. I'm just as horny as you are. I jerk off just like you do."

I laughed nervously, "I don't think anyone is as horny as I am."

"Yeah? Sooo how often do you jerk off then?"

I blushed something fierce, "OMG, you can't ask me that!"

"Why not we're best friends right? I jerk off every day—there, now it's your turn."

I covered my face (you know, like when you're little and cover your eyes playing hide 'n seek because you think that means they can't see you if you can't see them!), "Like I said, I don't think anyone's as horny as I am. So every morning is a definite—I mean you wake up with morning wood, it would be rude not to. And, then there's nothing better for going to sleep then rolling over just after you've done it. And well, sometimes you just pumped up after sports that you just have to do it right when you get home."

Ian looked at me wide eyed, "Seriously, three times a day?!"

"At least."

"Damn, I got some ground to make up! OK, next question," then his voice got real husky, "What do you think about when you're doing it?"

I glanced at him and then away as fast as I could, but clearly he'd seen the look of sheer terror in my eyes. I felt him shift a little next to me and then he reached over and took my hand, "Max, Look at me. Remember what you said, be brave, who dare's wins?"

"I think you're a lot braver than I am Ian."

"I think I had to become brave kind of early. It's not so hard really, just do what you have to do."

I don't know about Ian, but for me the sexual tension in the room (no, in Ian's bed) was overwhelming. I was so terrified, but so excited at the same time. I could just say something innocuous, defuse the question. But I couldn't. I wanted him so much. I took a deep breath. Okay, I can do this. "I think about you Ian."

He smiled (okay, good sign, he didn't punch me), gave my hand a squeeze, "And what do you think about us doing?"

What was it dad says, 'might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb', no point in being bashful now. I smirked, "Kissing. Touching. Everything else."

"Kissing like this?" Ian leaned in. I tilted my head. Our lips touched. Oh my god, more incredible than I ever imagined. I moaned, more whimpered really. His lips were so soft, so wet, so amazing. I've no idea how long the kiss lasted, but eventually we broke apart—both of us panting, eyes locked, grinning ear to ear. I think my brain was on overload trying to process the intense feelings flooding in from all my senses.

I cocked my head and tried to stifle my grin as much as possible, "Ummm, not exactly like that. More like this." I leaned back in, my hand sliding up behind Ian's head and pulled him into another kiss. This time, I opened my lips as we kissed, and flicked my tongue against his lips. He readily opened his and our tongues kissed tip to tip, then slide past each other—even more amazing than our first kiss!

Somewhere during all this, I remembered that I had another hand which was trembling like crazy as I reached out and made contact with the thick bulge of his oblique, one of the many Ian parts I found massively sexy and had dreamt about since I held him that first day on our walk to the library stacks. I firmly traced along it as it blended into his torso. Ian arched into me as I slide my hand up and around his back, pulling him in tightly against me—our whole naked abs and chests in full contact.

I sure as hell wasn't even conscious of the scars on his back, all I wanted was as much of my Ian touching me as possible. His leg issue didn't even factor in either as we both were lying in bed; arms around each other—equally capable, equally horny. Needless to say, we were both rock hard. Boy instinct kicked in and we were both humping and grinding our cocks against each other, with nothing but the thin fabric of our boxer briefs separating us. I was vaguely aware of how hot, and I mean like temperature hot, his cock felt against mine.

As awesome as all this was, I was hungry for more. I finally broke our kiss again and rose up. Ian looked at me questioning, but I just smiled and gave him a little 'air kiss'. I ran my fingers lightly over his hard chest and then down the center groove of his abs to his waist band. My brain trying off so hard to process all the intense feelings I was experiencing. His boxer briefs were soaked just like mine. With one finger tip, I traced his cock through his briefs—the solid thickness of his shaft, the thick tube running up the middle, the distinctive edge of the rim of his head.

I hooked my fingers into his waist band and cocked my head—asking the silent question if it was okay to take the next step. Ian gave me the cutest little smile and nodded. It felt like my heart was going to pound its way right through my chest as I skinned his boxers down his legs and then looked back up to see him in all his glory.

My eyes widened, "Wow!"


I reached out and took him in my hand, wrapping my fingers around him. Well, almost all the way around him actually, "You're thick, and long." I grinned, "I guess it tracks. You're taller, and bigger than I am. Makes sense this big ole thang would be bigger than I am!"

I saw a flicker of concern cross his face, "Do you think I'm freakishly big?"

I ran my hand gently up and down his shaft and smirked, "Freakishly? No way. You're beautifully big." I softly added, "I think you're the most beautiful boy I've ever known."

Ian bit his lip, and whispered, "Next to you."

I blushed, "Ok, Lets agree we're the two most beautiful boys we know." I liked holding Ian in my hand, I was made to hold onto a cock like this—it was so freakin' hard, but skin soft at the same time, not to mention burning hot! I could feel his heart beat through his shaft. Again, my mind wandered off as it occurred to me that I was going to have the figure out some logistics. How was this 'beautifully thick cock' going to fit in me? I'd played with my finger, and that was tight. I was gonna have to do some research and figure that out. But no worries. Where there's a will, there's a way. And I gotta whole lot of will!

But right then I was a kid on a mission. I slide down alongside him, tucking my shoulder up under his warm arm pit. We started kissing again as I slowly started stroking his awesome shaft. Both of us moaning softly as our tongues dueled.

My whole experience of jerking had been with Eicke cousins and German boys, none of whom were circumcised, so a cut cock was not in my wheelhouse. Ian came to the rescue though and fished a bottle of lube out of his side table. That made a huge difference, letting my hand slide slickly up and down. Ian was flexing his hips as well, thrusting into my hand.

I could tell from his thrusting and the increasing frenzy of his tongue in my mouth that he was getting close. I so wanted to see him cum, so I broke the kiss and shifted my head down to rest on his chest. I was totally mesmerized watching his cock slide in and out of my fist. Then all of a sudden, I felt him swell up in my hand. I watched wide eyed as his slit actually opened up and then hocked up a thick wad of cum.

I barely had time to snap my eyes shut before it lashed across my face, covering one eye and then tracing down across my cheek. I continued a downward pull with each upward thrust that Ian did as he came. Finally, he slowed down. I continued to gently stroke until he gasped and cried out "Too sensitive"

Then I lifted my head up and looked at him. Well, looked through one eye anyway, as my other was still glued shut with the rope of cum that had hit my face.

"I've been shot," I giggled.

Ian smiled and took my face in his hands. I felt him swipe his thumb across my eye. Both eyes now open, I locked eyes with him and sent the most intense 'I love you mind waves' I could muster. Ian was staring back at me equally intensely.

Then I noticed he was holding his thumb up, still slick with his cum. I leaned over and sucked his thumb into my mouth, swirling my tongue all around it and tasting his cum. It pretty much tasted like mine, only even more awesome because it was Ian's. We kept our eyes locked the whole time. Ian was slowly pumping his thumb in and out while my tongue swirled—if this wasn't an advertisement for a future blow job then nothing was.

Finally, I pulled of his thumb and proceeded to clean the rest of his torso, licking up each rope and rolling it with my tongue—you gotta enjoy the whole tasting experience right?! We then went back into another cuddle-kissing session before Ian pushed me on my back. He shifted down close as he gently took hold of my seriously leaking cock.

"I've wanted to do this ever since we first saw each other naked in the showers." He carefully began stroking, gently moving my foreskin up and down, "Am I doing this right? I don't want to hurt you."

I kind of half moaned an answer since it felt way more awesome than okay. "It works pretty much like yours. Just don't yank it too hard. You can pull the skin all the way down, or all the way up."

"Like this?"

I think my moans pretty much indicated he was on the right track. I was so turned on from jerking him off, that it wasn't long before I had the most intense climax of my entire life. A boy, not just any boy but Ian, held my in his fist as I arched, shuddered, spasmed, forgot to breath, and everything else when I came. I was vaguely aware that he licked me clean too before sliding back up alongside me.

Barely able to keep my eyes open at that point, I rolled on my side and pressed up against him. I tucked myself back in under his armpit, resting my face in the crook of his neck. It felt really nice when he slid his arm under me and pulled me in close—more than nice, it felt warm, safe. I draped my arm across his stomach and pulled us even more tightly together.

We slept that way the whole night. As I first started to regain consciousness, I thought I'd had a really awesome dream. But then I felt Ian against me, his arm still holding me close. I opened my eyes and I was able to focus, I could see the mound of his pec, topped by a really cute and slightly hard nipple. I so wanted to stay right in that spot forever, but my bladder had other ideas so I carefully extracted myself from his arms and padded off to the bathroom.

When I came back, all I could do was just look at him. He was splayed out on his back, the duvet just covering him south of his navel, his lips just slightly open as his chest softly rose and fell with each breath. God, he was just so beautiful. I quietly got my sketch pad and pencils out of my backpack and perched myself back on the bed. At first, I worked as quickly as I could—wanting to get far along before be woke up. But Ian was sleeping like a rock, so I was able to go back and fill in much more detail. The early light of the dawn caught him at an incredible angle—highlighting his high points like his cheekbones and nose, pecs and abs; while casting deep shadows elsewhere.

"Are you drawing me?"

"Morning," I grinned. "I had to. You just looked so beautiful lying there asleep."

"Hmmm. That's a little creepy." He laughed as he stretched out, flexing those muscles that make me giddy.

"Creepy to want to draw my adorably cute boyfriend?"

Ian's eyes shot up. "Are we boyfriends?"

That got me worried. "Ummm. Aren't we? I figured after all the kissing and, well, the other stuff we did…" (Fuck…did I read this all wrong??!!)

But then I saw his mischievous grin. "Well, you haven't asked me. A boy likes to be asked you know."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Okay. I can do this properly. I set down my pad and got up on one knee—still buck naked of course. I reached out and took both of his hand, "Ian Cameron MacLeod will you be boyfriend?"

He smiled (thank god!), "Maximillian Agustus Eicke, I would love to be your boyfriend!" I guess he got a little emotional with all that because I could see him trying to blink back a tear. He nodded towards my sketch pad, "Let's see your work!"

I grabbed my pad and sidled up next to him in what was quickly becoming my favorite place. I lay the pad out across our laps and held my breath as I watched him out of the corner of my eye. Time seemed interminable as he stared at the picture. He reached out, tracing his finger over the drawing.

"This is me." he uttered quietly. It was a statement, but it seemed like a question.

"Of course, it's you." I whispered, confused.

"But I look so beautiful in this picture."

"That's how beautiful you are," I said simply. "That's how I see you." (I was still seriously confused that he would see it any different.)

That's when the flood gates opened. I saw a fat tear fall onto the picture and then just as quickly another. Tucked up against him, I could feel Ian starting to shake as he lost control of his tears and it scared me. I swept the sketch pad away and took him in my arms, squeezing him as tightly as I could as he buried his face in my chest and cried.

I had no idea what was wrong. He'd seemed happy at the whole boyfriend thing. Why would my drawing make him cry? I couldn't think of anything to do or say other than to hold him, stroke his back, and make soft cooing sounds like my mom used to do for me when I was upset.

Eventually his sobbing slowed and he started taking deep breaths. I still held him tight and gave him all the 'please be happy' kisses that I could. I leaned my forehead against his, "Are you okay now?"

He nodded, sniffling and started to try to wipe the tears from his face. I spied my boxer briefs from last night wrapped up in the duvet and offered them up to help. "Sorry, they're kind of smelly."

Ian held them against his face and inhaled, then gave me a wry smile, "S'okay. They smell like Max. I love that smell."

"You smell like Baby Powder and Ian. That's my favorite smell in the whole world." I whispered conspiratorially, "Now, I get a hard on every time I smell Baby Powder!"

Ian lay back on his pillow, indicting to me to do the same. Noses almost touching, he reached up to gently touch my cheek and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I lost it Max. Really, I'm happy. Deliriously happy. You've made me the happiest boy in the world."

I smiled, feeling really giddy inside and whispered, "Maybe the second happiest. I'm the happiest boy in the world because if I make you happy that makes me happier."

Ian gave a little laugh, having endured my circular arguments before, "Okay, the two happiest boys. How about that?"

I nodded and smiled, though I guess my face still showed total confusion over what had just transpired.

Ian took a deep breath, "Max. You have to understand. When I first had my accident, I was in a really dark place. I woke up in the hospital and found out I couldn't use my legs. I thought my life was over, finished at 13. I'd be a cripple forever. I'd never live a normal life…never enjoy life…never have a boyfriend…never have sex."

I shuddered and felt a churning deep in my gut as I felt the pain and sorrow that I saw in his eyes. I kept quiet though and just nodded, letting him continue.

"There were times when I just thought it would have been better if I'd died in the accident. Then my parents and everyone could just go on with their lives, and just remember me as I had been."

Okay, now I was crying. I really tried not to, but the tears were just spilling put of my eyes. Max reached up with my boxers and helped to wipe them away.

"I did get better. Mom and Dad had me seeing a shrink, and she was really good for me. I could tell her everything and she helped me think things through. Eventually I understood that I could go on. But still, I didn't believe I'd find someone for me. Until now. Out of nowhere, you appear—like a dream, only you're real. That's why I was crying, not that I was sad, but that I was overwhelming happy."

I nodded eagerly, "You know you're like the answer to my prayers too Ian. I was always afraid to ever let anyone get close, because I knew we'd move and I'd have to say goodbye. I didn't think I'd ever find someone either. And then I walked in to our biology class, and there you were. I fell in love with you at the moment, but never believed you'd feel the same way."

Ian just had the biggest smile on his face as he leaned in and kissed my tear-streaked cheeks, "I love you Max. So much."

"I love you more," I whispered, pulling him in close again, our naked bodies touching from head to toe. I could feel his heart beating against mine, and yeah, our cocks might have been soft, but they felt real nice nestled against each other too.

Just then Ian's stomach growled something fierce and I realized I was pretty hungry too. "I need to shower before I see your parents. I reek of 'teen jock boy sex'."

Ian rolled his eyes, "teen jock boy sex?? You've been watching too much porn!"

"Too much porn?!" I protested indignantly, "First, I don't believe there is such a thing as too much porn. Second, you can't blame me that my parents are former hippies who don't believe in proper online controls. And third, it's not porn, it's sexual education—it gives me good ideas…like, let's shower together!"

And so we did—and it was more awesome than I could have imagined! We didn't fool around too much as we could already smell the bacon cooking, but even just soaping each other up was intense. Touching every muscle. Cleaning every crevice. Naked, slippery bodies rubbing against each other. For the first time, Ian slipped his soapy hand between my butt cheeks and sought out my tight hole. I moaned loudly as he first rubbed it and then pressed a finger up inside me. I would have loved for him to take me right there, standing in the shower but I didn't think his legs were up for it (yet). I returned the favor and I'm pretty sure I found his prostate from the way he gasped and shuddered.

The water started to run cold, so we reluctantly finished up, drying each other off and then sharing the sink as we brushed our teeth. Properly dressed, we headed to the kitchen (Ian using his crutches, as he generally did for short distances). His mom was already hard at work, cooking up a feast. Ian jumped right in as sous chef while I was given the task of setting the table. His dad finally wandered in and poured himself some coffee before we all sat down to eat.

Breakfast was a little weird, at least I thought so. Don't get me wrong, the food was awesome—waffles, bacon, sausage, eggs (a teenager's dream); the conversation was good (normal kid-parent stuff); but I kept catching his mom or dad just 'looking' at me. It's like they were 'studying' me or something. I felt like someone had taken a Sharpie and written 'I jerked off your son and licked up all his cum' on my forehead! Or 'your son and I played tongue sushi completely naked all night'! I was relieved when breakfast was finally over and we went back to the safety of Ian's room.

The plan was my parents wouldn't be picking me up until late afternoon, which meant Ian and I got to hang together for the whole day. We had homework to do, so that was the first order of business. I settled in at one end of his couch and started my history reading. Ian was puttering around though and I watched out of the corner of my eye he pulled out a pair of shorts out of his bureau and dropped his sweats. He crutched over and settled in at the opposite end of the couch—our bare legs nestled in together. It felt nice—the little hairs on our calf's brushing together, the warmth of his skin.

"I like you in shorts," I murmured, peeking at him over the edge of my book.

"I've kind of shied away from wearing them, because of my scars," he shrugged, "but I figure you've seen me naked, so…"

Such a little thing, putting on shorts, But Ian couldn't have picked any act that would have made my heart swell like this one. It showed the amount of trust he had for me—at least that's what it meant to me. I blew him a little air kiss and mouthed 'I love you.' He grinned and mouthed 'study'. I did, but I kept a hand on his calf as I read. I really liked gently stroking his leg, feeling the soft hairs (he seemed to have a lot more hair on his legs than I did, but maybe it was just a black hair versus blond thing).

We got in a solid few hours before we took a break and played some more Hell Let Loose. It was during that game that I brought up the way his parents seemed to be studying me this morning. Ian hit pause on the game and turned to me, taking my hands in his (uh oh).

"Remember when I told you about my seeing a shrink?"

I nodded.

"Well, she helped me with a lot of things. One was helping me to work though being gay. So, I sort of came out to my parents back then. That's why they're 'studying' you. They're probably trying to figure out if you're gay too and if we're boyfriends."

"Oh." My mind started swirling, again. There were a ton of implications of that! I mean sure I was definitely gay, and yes, I loved Ian and was beyond happy we were boyfriends. But having someone else 'know it'—that was a whole other issue. I was more comfortable with us being boyfriends in our own little cocoon of our bedrooms—why does the outside world have to intrude?!.

Ian clued right into my consternation, "It's okay, we don't have to say anything to them. We can let them wonder."

I nodded slowly, "But it's going to be more and more obvious right? I mean they already know you're gay, and they'll see us interacting. I don't know if I'm ready to 'come out', but I do know I won't hide us."

"Don't worry. They're not going to ask, so they can think all they want. When we're ready, then we can tell them."

I nodded, relieved—for a nanosecond, then I thought about school. "Tomorrow's going to be weird. I'm going to want to hug you, kiss you, touch you…all day long. People are going to be watching us too, aren't they? At least we know Danny will be!"

Ian took a deep breath, "So you know that Danny and I are really close right? We've been friends for a long time."

I knew where this was going, "He knows you're gay too? Then he's going to figure it out pretty quickly."

Ian gave me a weak grin, but I could see in his eyes that he was clearly worried I was getting agitated over others knowing. Yeah, I had to do some serious thinking to do about all this, but I sure wasn't going to let my boyfriend down. I got up and moved down to his end of the couch, sitting on the edge and taking him in my arms.

"I love you Ian. I love you more than anything else in the world. What we did last night, I hope that's just the beginning. I want to do everything with you—and I mean EVERYTHING. I'm not sure I want to stand on a table at lunch and announce we're a couple to the world, but if people figure us out, then they figure us out and we deal with it. Is that okay?"

Ian leaned in and gave me the softest, most loving kiss, "Yeah, that sounds like a plan to me. Who knows, maybe Danny won't notice."

Yeah, wishful thinking. By fourth period Monday, Danny was giving me the eyeball from across the room. At the lunch table, he kept winking at both of us—at least he had the decency to not say anything in front of everyone. But as we headed down the corridor towards our next class, he grabbed the handles on Ian's wheelchair and pushed him into an empty classroom. He closed the door behind us and then just stood there, arms folded across his chest, grinning from ear to ear.

"Well?" he demanded.

"Well, what?" Ian responded.

Danny rolled his eyes, "Seriously? You're going to try to tell me something didn't happen this weekend?"

We weren't going to give it up that easily though. Ian and I went back and forth, rattling off the various innocuous events of the weekend—the pool, online gaming, meals with his parents. Danny just stood there blocking the door. We were going to have to give it up or miss class.

Finally, Ian decided we'd tortured him long enough. He grinned and looked up at me, "Should we tell him about the other stuff?"

I smile, "The other stuff? You mean like this?" I leaned down and mouth wide open, tongue sticking out, went in for a kiss. I'd seen enough porn to know to properly tilt my head so the camera man (Danny) would have the best view. Ian reciprocated and for a few minutes we forgot Danny was there. When we finally pulled apart and looked back at him, he was the poster child for 'stunned'—gobsmacked as my dad liked to say—and with a not small tent in his pants.

"I knew it!" he triumphed, "Right when I saw you in first period. Both of you were glowing—and you kept glancing at each other and grinning like idiots, even though you were trying not to!" He then adjusted himself, apologizing "Sorry, I'm straight but that was fucking hot!"

Then he rushed forward and grabbed both of us in an awkward 'sitting-standing-crouching' hug. "I love you guys so much. I'm so happy you've finally gotten together! Are you out? No obviously you're not or you would have said something already."

We swore him to secrecy, saying we're not coming out yet, but not denying it if someone figures it out. He agreed to keep it under his hat, but offered that it was pretty obvious to him so not to be shocked when more people figured it out. That gave me something to think about (that and the fact that that I found it way hot to have him watch Ian and I kissing—maybe I'm an exhibitionist!). Knowing that Danny knew and was really happy for us, went a long way towards calming my fears, which was a good thing, for by the end of the week two more of our lunch table crew had figured it out.

Guess we weren't being as subtle as we thought, even though the thought we were being paragons of restraint given the circumstances. They say there's nothing hornier than a teenage virgin, but that's a lie. There's nothing hornier than a teenage boy who spent the weekend with his boyfriend and now has to wait a whole week before we really can do anything more than stealing a random kiss. Okay, maybe it wasn't quite that bad. We did get a lot of 'alone study time' at each other's houses, during which we progressed to the incredibly awesome 'blow job' stage of our relationship haha! This confirmed several key points: 1. while Ian has a thick cock, Max has a small mouth; 2. small or not, Max loves sucking Ian's cock, especially the feeling of it rubbing against the roof of his mouth and tongue; 3. Max has an excellent gag reflex (which he's working to suppress), while Ian seems to have no gag issues and can deep-throat; and 4. we both happily swallow!

Oh, back on the not being so subtle issue, Alecia and Jenny confronted us in study hall. As agreed, we didn't deny it, but asked them to keep it to themselves. They agreed, but Alecia muttered something about throwing herself at me to lure me to the other side. That earned her a death threat from Ian who said he'd run her over with his wheelchair and leave her for dead in the school parking lot if she tried anything! (seriously, can he be any more romantic than that?!)

Late October rolled around and we were in the throes of midterms, us as a couple was fast becoming an open secret—the circle of people in the know extending far beyond our lunch table. Our close friends were calling us 'M-ian'. It's not like we were the first gay couple at the school, so I think that helped in lessening the social drama. I was back out on the soccer field after my two weeks of injured reserve (and my two weeks of getting to workout with my boyfriend!). I was a little worried now that I was back in the regular locker room, but no one seemed bothered by 'the gay kid'. Jason was being even more of a dick than before; but on the plus side, his buddy Dennis seemed to be being nicer (maybe they trade off!).

We came out to Ian's parents, sort of. Okay, really I completely chickened out and let Ian tell them we were a couple when I wasn't there (brave me!). They were super nice though and the next time I was over, his mom gave me a big hug and told me how happy they were for us. More importantly, they didn't impose any restrictions on sleepovers now that we were officially a couple (yea for liberal parents!). I actually had a really cool conversation with Ian's dad while I was helping him out in the garage. I asked him about when Ian came out to them and how he felt about it. Of course, that was all wrapped up in his being injured, so that was kind of the main focus from his perspective. He admitted to being very worried—not that Ian was gay, but how he would fair as a disabled gay person. Kind of two strikes against him so the speak (but he swore me to secrecy about telling Ian anything about that). He felt that much had changed in the two years since though—Ian was doing really well with his disabilities, with PT, and of course he now had an amazing boyfriend (his words not mine haha!).

I'd been doing a lot of thinking. We were 'quietly out' at school—like I said, the only thing we hadn't done is stand on the lunch table and sing show tunes. Ian's parents knew everything. I figured I was fooling myself if I didn't think other kids at school had mentioned us to their parents. It was only a matter of time before someone said something to my parents. Plus, there was Thanksgiving coming up soon. My family always went around the table and you had to talk about what you were thankful for. I'd always had the usual stuff—health, family, etc. But this year would be different. I was thankful for Ian, pure and simple and there was no way I could talk about it without the 'way' being blatantly obvious to everyone. It was come out now; or come out at the Thanksgiving table!

It was time to man-up. Time to tell my parents. Ian and I had talked it through 100 times over the past week. Saturday was the day. I dragged myself out of bed, showered, primped, went through 3 changes of clothes (what is the proper 'coming out attire" anyway?). Finally, I couldn't delay any more. I walked down stairs to the kitchen. Step by step…my heart was pounding through my chest. Mom and Dad were already in the kitchen—Dad reading the newspaper; Mom making breakfast.

Mom poured me a cup of coffee, "Morning sleepyhead, though I was going to have to send dad up to roust you.

I nursed the warm cup and leaned back against the counter. "Ummm, Mom, Dad, I need to tell you something."

Mom immediately stopped what she was doing and looked at me, she gave me that mom smile, and I could see in her eyes that 'she knew'. That gave me the courage to actually deliver my long speech, "I'm gay and Ian is my boyfriend."

Mom smiled and reached to hug me. Then we heard dad from the end of the table, "Fuck!"

We both jumped. I swear I almost peed my pants! I couldn't breathe as panic set in. OMG. He's freaking out. He's going to throw me out or send me to conversion camp!

Mom was still holding my hard and I could feel her shaking. At first, I thought she was as scared as I was, but then I realized she was laughing…wtf??!! (My parents are so weird!)

I pulled my head up and terrified, looked at my dad. He was looking at me with total disappointment, "You couldn't have waited to tell us until college?"

My brain wouldn't compute. WTF? "What do you care if I come out in high school or college?"

He looked annoyed, "Because high school is going to cost me $500!"


Mom, clearly stifling a laugh, "Now Oskar, Fair is fair. You lost the bet. Pay up!

I watched as dad hauled out his money clip and peeled off five $100 bills and tossed them across the table…muttering something about being hustled (I need to talk to him, who carries that much cash anymore??!!)

Mom picked 'em up, made a show of counting them off, then folded them and tucked them in her shirt like a 'biker mama'.

"You bet on when I would come out?? What kind of parents are you?" Mom at least had the decency to look a little contrite. So, I pressed my advantage and stuck my hand out. "Splitsies!"

She looked at me for a few seconds, then reached in and peeled of $200. "I get to keep $300, Moma needs a new pair of shoes." (and that my friends is how you guilt your parents out of two hunge!)

"But wait. How did you know? How could you tell I was gay? Do I act gay???"

"Do you mean like are you flamboyantly gay? No. But sweetheart, parents (or at least moms) know their children. We watch you, we talk to you, we hear what you say, and what you don't say. So, there were signs."

"Like what signs?" seriously I wanted to know.

"Well. You've never come home and gushed about some girl at school—like your brothers all did." (well that was true. I never understood how they would just go stupid over boobs)

"But, you did come home very excited about this boy or that boy that you met. Like Ian."

Then Dad chimed in, "And then there was Mallorca."

"What about Mallorca?" We'd had a two-week vacation in Mallorca, but I didn't remember anything special happening there.

"Well, when we were there last summer, the island was overrun with Scandinavian hospitality students. Everywhere you looked was a bevy of young blond girls, and on the beach they were topless. You father couldn't keep his eyes in his head."

Dad muttered something about the beauty of youth.

"You never even noticed the girls, even when they tried to talk to you. But whenever a Scandinavian boy walked by in those tiny speedos, you locked on like a radar. Especially that boy, Lukas." (okay…maybe they were right about that. I had been seriously crushing on Lukas.)

Then dad just had to pile it on, "And then there's Purple. Your favorite color is purple. You have to admit that's like the gayest color choice!"

"How is a color gay?" my eyes flashed. "Besides, it's so not gay. It's regal. Sartorial splendor— Tyrian purple, Roman elite and all that!" Dad just shrugged his shoulders and went back to his newspaper.

Mom gave me another hug, "Don't worry sweetheart, I love you in purple, it complements your eyes!" That made me feel better though I wasn't certain I'd prevailed in my defense of Purple.

I guess all in all that went very well, other than my parents being totally weird about betting on me. From their perspective it was more of a confirmation of what they already had recognized, then a "shock your parents, whatta mean you're gay" kind of thing. Plus I'd scored $200, so I wouldn't need to raid my strong box for later!

After breakfast, mom and I headed into Philly to do some advance Christmas shopping—she thought Black Friday was for amateurs! Me, I had to execute a secret mission. I told mom I had to do some family shopping, which gave me the excuse to divert off for the task at hand. I'd already scoped out the right shop on line and made a beeline to it—Antonio's House of Love (ok, maybe they could use a good marketing consult!). It wasn't the best part of Center City, but it was a quick ride on SEPTA and I didn't have a whole lot of time.

I summed up all my courage (who dare's wins right?!), and pushed in the door. A pretty sketchy guy looked up at me from behind the counter and immediately hit me with, "You gotta be 18 to come in here kid."

I waved my share of the bet winnings in the air and told him as confidently as I could, "I gotta Benjamin here that says I'm of age!"

He licked his lips hungrily, "You know what you want? You can't hang out."

I'd done my online research, "Butt plugs. Four of 'em, assorted sizes. I'm a virgin and my boyfriend has a thick cock."

He laughed, "Ahh the things I do for love!" He then led me over to a section that had more butt plugs than you could ever imagine. I was stunned, where do you even begin. He took pity on me and grabbed a four pack, "This should work for you."

He chuckled as I put my had around the biggest one and confirmed that it had the necessary girth. Then he led me over to another section and handed me a douche and some lube, "You'll need these too. You should be able to figure out how to use 'em." He told me the total bill was $100 with a straight face, I didn't argue.

Five minutes later, I was back waiting on the platform for the next train. I decided to ditch the packaging and stow the butt plugs in my jacket pockets—thank God for puffy down! An old lady was giving me the evil eye as I pocketed the plugs, but I just glared back at her (hey if she recognized what they were, then she was no innocent!). In no time, I was back in the heart of the city and on to my cover mission of family shopping.

When we got back home, I spent some time online—studying up on recommendations on 'how to do it'. The guy at Antonio's was right, there was more info than you could ever wade through, but I got some good tips. And yeah, I tried out the plugs—key tip don't go for the biggest first, ouch. Starting small and working up definitely worked, stretching me out so the biggest wasn't painful. Actually, they felt really awesome, I could see why people used them. I guess they pushed against my prostate, because all of a sudden, my cock was burping out globs of cum—not precum, like real cum (note to self to investigate these further).

Equally important, I checked my Instagram and discovered that Alex Winters, one of the Paralympians I was following, was going to be in Philly soon. He was on the US Paralympic Water Polo team and was going to be hosting an event at UPenn to introduce disabled folks to the sport; show the potential of what they could do and all that. I DM'd him right away, and by Sunday we'd traded a few emails. I'd given him all of Ian's details and he'd agreed to save a spot for him if he wanted to come. Long story short, Ian was way eager for it and second week in November found us heading into the city with Ian's dad.

Ian's dad is just a little OCD and had us at the aquatic house way in advance (I bet he's one of those airport people too). Fortunately, Alex and the organizers were already there, which was cool as we got to meet them without a ton of people around. Alex was missing one leg below the knee (shark attack he said!! Ouch!), but he sure moved around pretty nicely on his prosthetic. He directed us to the locker room so we could change and told us to meet them out at the pool. Ian and I sat on the edge of the pool in our boardshorts watching the other guys setting up. We were definitely the youngest participants. Everyone else was at least college age and even older. We hoped some younger guys would show up eventually.

The guys organizing the event were a combination of Paralympians with one disability or another, and 'helpers' like I was going to be. Most of them were wearing speedos, though some were wearing these square cut suits that I thought were way sexier. I wiggled my eyebrows and whispered to Ian that I wanted us to get those—he didn't say no! God, I loved him so much, I couldn't resist leaning over and giving him a subtle little kiss.

At least I thought it was subtle. But then from behind us, "Holy shit dad, they're fags!"

Ian and I both whipped out heads around and saw a kid our age, wearing a prosthetic below one knee, pointing at us in disgust. I cringed and wanted to just disappear.

But not Ian. "We're not fags," he shot back, "We're gay." (God he's so fierce!)

Then the kid's dad started yelling, "Gay, fags, all the same. You here to perv on my son? Get the fuck out of here!" He started moving towards us, but we quickly slipped into the pool to get away.

By then their yelling had gotten the attention of Alex and the other organizers and all of a sudden there was a mass of guys converging over to our side of the pool (you should have seen how fast some of those guys with only one leg could move)! The dad was still yelling at them to kick us out, but pretty short order the two of them were ushered out of the center.

Alex knelt at the edge of the pool and helped us both back out of the water, "Sorry about those guys. Goes to show you even bigots can be disabled."

"Well thanks for not throwing us out," Ian grinned.

He laughed and pointed across the pool at a helper who was a way burlier version of himself, "I think my gay brother over there would be very upset with me if I'd done that! You guys ready to play some water polo?"

Were we! For the next four hours, we were going almost non-stop. We played cross-pool and they ran two simultaneous games. Every 15 minutes or so, they'd take a break and mix up the teams. The other helpers and I got to sub in if they needed someone to round out a team. We weren't allowed to shoot on the net; we were supposed to pass the ball off as soon as we could. No one told me I couldn't favor my boyfriend though, so I was passing to Ian every chance I got! Of course, I cheered wildly every time he scored, so everyone knew who I was supporting.

Disabled or not, those guys were fierce competitors! I mean elbows get thrown in soccer all the time, but I was getting pummeled (and dunked) right and left. I protested that dunking was against the rules, but they just laughed and said the rules didn't apply to helpers—so I dunked them back)! I was only filling in, so I spent a lot of time sitting on the edge of the pool, but Ian was in the thick of it the whole time. He wasn't taking any prisoners—no quarter asked, no quarter given! He was laughing and having an awesome time. I had a whole new respect for his competitive spirit—I was so proud (okay, maybe I teared up a little)! I cursed myself that I hadn't brough my sketchbook, I so would have liked to have started some sketches of Ian!

Towards the end of the event, Alex called everyone over to the side of the pool and gave a pretty inspiring talk about the whole Paralympic program as well as similar programs for those who weren't at that level. There was a regular weekend session at the aquatics center that folks could sign up for that was at that more casual level. There were a ton of questions (no, it was really a fuck ton—pardon my language). Why is it people ask the same question over and over again?! Call me a bad person, but I started to wonder if some of them had mental comprehension disabilities. Finally, the questions petered out and folks started heading towards the locker room; that's when Alex came over to Ian specifically and introduced him to one of the college aged guys. We were two years away from college, and they wanted to explain the UPenn program to us. It sounded pretty awesome; Ian was definitely interested!

It was dark by the time we got showered and changed. Ian's dad swung by McDonald's as we were starving after the afternoon workout. His stomach full, Ian passed out as we headed out of the city. He cuddled up and rested his head on my shoulder which was super nice; I slid my hand up the back of his t-shirt and gently stroked his back as he fell asleep. I could feel his warm breath on my neck, I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else. Okay, that's not exactly right. I had plans for later that night, but I needed Ian to get a second wind if that was going to happen, so I let him sleep, even when he started drooling on my shirt.

He got in a good hour rest in before we pulled up in front of the MacLeod's and I had to awake him. He was totally embarrassed when he realized his drool had soaked my shirt, but I whispered I'd already had all of his bodily fluids all over me, and in me, so no worries. We chatted with his mom and dad for a little bit and then retreated to his room for the night. That's when I pulled 'Antonio's Kit of Love' out of my duffle and opened it up next to him on his bed. Ian's eyebrows shot up when he saw the assortment of butt plugs and other gear.

He picked one up and inspected it, "What are we going to do with these?"

I grinned, "I have a Plan! You are going to use these to get me opened up and relaxed, so you can fit your really thick cock up my tight little hole!"

He looked like a kid who'd score an entire bowl of Halloween candy! "We're going to do 'it'? Tonight?" he giggled.

I held his stunning lean jaw in my hands and pressed our foreheads together, "I'm ready Ian. I want to feel you inside me. I want you to make love to me"

"And then you to me," he smiled, "I love you Max. So much."

God ever time he says that to me it just makes my heart surge. I feel it burst all through my body. I had to wipe a few tears away and take a deep breath. "I love you too Ian—from the moment I first saw you. Okay. A bit of business first," I said, picking up the douche.

"What's that for?"

"Ummm. All part of the Plan, interior clean up preparation. Not very romantic, but necessary, from what I've read."

He grimaced in understanding, grabbed his crutches, and followed me into the bathroom. I'll spare you the details, but we got it done, for both of us, and then got into bed. We maneuvered on our sides into a sixty-nine position, so Ian could start working the plugs into me—God that felt incredible in and of itself. I had to make him stop playing with my cock (he just loves my foreskin!) or I would have cum before we even started. I was supposed to be his fluffer while he got me ready, but he was so excited there was no work to be done there either.

Once I was well stretched, I rolled him onto his back and straddled his waist. Leaning in, we kissed—first gentle I love you kisses; then dueling tongue kisses. Ian was running his hands up and down my back, and then further down to massage my butt cheeks.

"I love how hard your ass is," he moaned.

"Bony hard?" I laughed. I knew I had a little butt.

"No way. 'Muscled hard' and these dimples you have in the sides, so sexy." He reached down through my legs and lifted up his cock, rubbing it up and down my crack. I rocked back as he moved up and down so the head of his cock was pressing against my lubed hole and then sliding past.

Locking eyes, I whispered to him to hold it still, rose up on my thighs, and then pushed down. I clenched when his head first pressed against me, but then I remembered I needed to 'open' myself up. I concentrated and did—terrified that some stray poop might shoot out (it didn't!). I could feel his head spreading me open and then popping in. I swear I felt my hole snap back in around the rim of his head once it got inside!

"I'm in!" Ian whispered. His bright blue eyes sparkling.

"Trust me, I know!" I grimaced.

"Should we stop? I don't want to hurt you."

I shook my head, "I'm okay. Just getting used to it." (like hell was I going to acknowledge any pain) I took a deep breath and pushed down some more, feeling him slide deeper inside me.

"Oh God, Max! You're so tight, so warm."

I took a deep breath and bore down again, feeling Ian's thick cock sliding in to the hilt as his black pubes brushed up against my butt. I smiled, "You're in. All the way." Ian giggled and pulled me back in for another round of kissing. Our chests were rubbing against each other, my deflated cock sandwiched between our abs. I shuddered and felt so warm as I realized we were now fully connected—we had become one.

As we kissed and caressed each other, I could feel my hole relaxing around his cock, getting used to his girth. Ian started flexing his abs and making his cock slide a little in and out of me. His thick shaft was rubbing right against my prostate, so pretty quickly I was rock hard again and leaking. Time to get to work. I pushed myself upright, planted my hands on his solid pecs, and put my soccer thighs into action.

I raised up until only his head remained inside me, and then pushed back down in one fell swoop. Ian flexing and pushing up at the same time—it was a toss-up who was moaning more haha! Thank God for all those wind sprints, the muscles in my thighs were well up for the challenge as I pistoned up and down my boyfriend's shaft. The whole time we had our eyes locked—silently communicating our love for each other (okay, silently assuming you ignore the grunting and moaning—thank God his parent's room was upstairs at the front of the house!).

By this time, we both knew each other's signs so intimately, that I knew Ian was getting close. I leaned back in and sucked his tongue deep into my mouth, tonguing it like I had learned to do with his cock as I rode his cock to climax. His whimpering turned into a gasp as his whole body went rigid. I felt him shuddering, his thick cock twitching deep inside me as he filled me with cum. I might not get pregnant; but I was definitely his!

Slowly our lips parted and we leaned our foreheads against each other. Panting, chests heaving—I could feel his warm breath pushing past my face. Both of us sweating—I could smell the intoxicating combination of Baby Powder and Ian. Hearts pounding against each other. Grinning like idiots, deliriously happy. Our bodies so close, it was like we were in our own little M-Ian cocoon.

"Hey there, former virgin," I whispered, "I love you!"

Ian giggled, "I love you too former virgin, or maybe we're half-former virgins. You know, until we do it the other way." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Ummm, in time," I whispered, "For now, I'm happy right where I am." I rocked back onto him, "You're still hard."

Ian smiled and gave me a little flex, "I am."

"Can you go again?"

He nodded enthusiastically, "But can you? I don't want to hurt you."

"Definitely. I'm well stretched out," I winked conspiratorially, "Don't tell anyone, but my boyfriend's got a really thick dick."

He grinned ear to ear, "I've heard that!"

This time was much slower. Ian truly made love to me, and I to him. I was definitely more stretched, plus there was his cum added to the lube already in me. This time there was very little pain, and a whole lot of pleasure as his cock rubbed back and forth across my prostate. I got really hard. My cock was bouncing and swinging back and forth as I rode his. I was throwing precum all over his abs.

When I felt him getting close again, I grabbed my cock and started stroking. He batted my hand away, and wrapped his hand around me, pumping in time with his thrusts. We never broke eye contact the whole time, even when I came. My first rope hit his neck, the next his chest, the rest flowing into the grooves of his abs. I could feel my hole clenching around his cock as I continued to ride him. This time he grunted softly, then shuddered again and again as he climaxed.

Only then did I lean in and we kissed—soft, gentle, I love you kisses—over and over. As we both calmed down, I could feel him softening and slowly slipping out, eventually popping free. Neither of us were prepared for the onslaught of his cum oozing out of me. I felt it sliding down my crack and onto my balls. It tickled and I started giggling—which made it worse. The more I laughed, the more his cum gushed out of me and onto him. That started both of us laughing uncontrollably and well you can imagine how that went!

"I'm so sorry. I didn't realize it'd come gushing out of me like that."

"S'ok. I'm pretty sure that's all my cum, so probably me that should be apologizing!"

"I should probably get us cleaned up," I murmured, as much as I didn't want to move. Ian nodded.

I extracted myself and scampered to the bathroom, both hands pressing my butt cheeks together to try to stem the flow of cum. I flashed a finger back at my boyfriend when I heard him snickering at me. I did a quick clean up, dampened a hand towel with warm water, and then came back to take care of Ian. He was covered in cum—his and mine. He watched with very sleepy eyes as I gently cleaned him up.

"I'm really tired," he apologized.

"Me too, let's just cuddle for now." I tucked myself in on his side in my favorite position—my shoulder under his armpit, head on his chest, my leg pulled up over his groin—basically as close as I could get without climbing inside him. I fell asleep giving him little kisses on the side of his neck. I probably would have slept all night, but Ian had other ideas. I was having the most awesome dream, only it wasn't a dream—it was Ian, gently running one finger up and down my cock while he sucked on my nipple (Have I mentioned I think my nipples are hardwired to my cock?!).

I blinked and focused, "Ummmm, that feels really nice." I stretched out, arching as Ian shifted his kisses from my nipple to the rest of my taut torso.

"Are you ready for round two?" he whispered, running his tongue around the edge of my ear.

"Umyeahsureanythingyouwant," I murmured (or something to the effect).

"So, what's the rest of your Plan?"

I smiled groggily, shrugged my shoulders, and reached down to grip his swollen cock, "No idea. My Plan only covered this big ol' thang busting me wide open. So we'll have to wing it!"

Ian was unphased by having to improvise, it seemed he'd done his own researching and thinking. He shifted into the middle of the bed, still on his back, and reached down to spread his legs apart. "I want to do it on my back, just like we did before, only you on top of course. You can put my legs up on your shoulders."

I knew exactly what he was describing of course, I'd seen that position in more than enough videos that I'd found on line. I was worried though I would hurt him somehow by bending his legs too much. We've already established I have no poker face, and this was yet another prime example.

I didn't even say anything when Ian put his fingers on my lips, "You won't break me Max. Remember, I played football—you aren't going to hurt me, trust me."

I nodded, and shifted into position between his legs. "I'll need to stretch you out first, even though I'm not as thick as you are," I giggled.

Ian grinned, "Nope. Already done. I took care of that while you were snoring away next to me."

"I don't snore," I retorted indignantly. He laughed and put his fingers to my lips again—guess we weren't going to discuss snoring right then. Looking down at the most beautiful boy I had ever seen, I gently lifted his legs up and put them up on my shoulders, my arms on the outside to hold them in place.

I shuffled in closer, jumping just a little as my head first touched his crack. He had indeed gotten himself ready—I could see the lube. My excitement growing, I reached down and took my shaft in my hand. Then I gently started rubbing it up and down his crack, across his hole. Each time I hit it, I paused and pushed a little, feeling my head poking in just a little.

"Enough teasing me Max. Do it," Ian commanded.

I nodded, and held my head in place against his hole. Then I pressed, slowly, gently. I shuddered as I felt him open up and my head pop in. Holy shit! I was in! He was so warm, so tight, so wet—my hips flexed pushing further. He hissed, his fingers pressing against my groin—making me pause.

"Gimme a minute, Max. I got to get used to this, are you sure you didn't get thicker over night?" he giggled, "Maybe my cum up your butt made your cock bigger!"

That made me laugh, which made my hips buck again, driving me further in—but this time it was clearly his fault! I paused again as he pressed his fingers into my groin. The slowly we pressed ahead, in a bit, fingers pressing, me holding, feeling his hole relax. Repeat, until finally I could feel my pubes pressed against him.

Leaning in over him, locking eyes, "I think I'm all the way in," I whispered, not quite believing it.

Ian grinned ear to ear, "You definitely are. I can feel your pubes on my butt. Feels awesome doesn't it?"

"Oh my God Ian. You're so tight, so warm—wrapped around my whole cock!" I giggled, "It feels beyond awesome, incredible, amazing. I love you so much!"

He pulled me in for a deep kiss, "I love you more! Now get to work. And remember, you won't break me!"

If my big head was worried, my little head wasn't. I locked my arms on either side, spread my legs out and locked them as well—so I was basically planking him. That's when all-boy took over! I started flexing my whole body like a bow, plunging in and out like a boy on a mission. I almost had Ian rolled into a ball, his cock pointed at his face. He reached up with both arms, running his hands up and down my taught biceps and triceps. God that felt so amazing, not that I had burly arms or anything but they were definitely bigger since I started working out with Ian and Antonio.

I'd love to say I lasted forever, or at least ten minutes—but I'm pretty sure it was way shorter than that, even though I wasn't looking at the clock! Eyes still locked with Ian's; I could feel the tingling building up under my balls. At the very end, I slowed but still flexed to drill the entire length of my cock in and out. Our noses just touching, I gave on final thrust—driving in as deep as I possibly could, connecting us as intimately as I possibly could, as I shuddered and emptied myself inside my Ian.

I leaned my sweaty forehead against his as he reached up and stroked my cheeks. Both of us grinning, so happy, so complete. He darted his head up to kiss me and we gave each other gentle, 'I love you' kisses as I softened and felt myself being pushed out. I collapsed on Ian's chest; feeling his heart pounding right against mine as we both caught our breath. Eventually, I rolled to the side, intending to take up my favorite spot. But Ian had other ideas and pushed me onto my back, commandeering my usual position. I wasn't going to argue, even if I'd had the energy. It felt really nice to have his head on my chest, his soft breath blowing across my nipple. Ian lightly stroked my chest as I ran my fingers up and down the corded muscles of his back.

Neither of us spoke. We just enjoyed being so close to each other. My brain tried to process all the incredible feelings and sensory inputs that had just transpired—but was completely overwhelmed, in a good way of course. We fell asleep that way and didn't shift at all the entire night—worn out by water polo and sex I suppose. I woke with Ian still tucked in on my chest. I could just tilt my head down and watch his lips slightly part as be breathed. Fortunately, I didn't have to pee that badly and was able to stay exactly where I was until Ian stirred and opened his eyes.

"Morning cuteness," I murmured.

"Ummm. Morning," he whispered back, as he arched, grinding his morning wood along my hip.

"Somebody's excited this morning," I giggled, giving him a little hip check so he pressed even more against my side.

"And you're not?" he challenged, reach under the covers and wrapping his hand around my equally hard shaft! He pulled me over so we lay cock to cock. Jeez it felt so intense: so warm; so silky smooth; so rock hard and pulsing.

But it was not to be, as we started kissing, we heard noises from the kitchen that signaled breakfast prep was underway. I rolled out of bed, handed Ian his crutches, and we made our way to the bathroom. At least we got in a very nice shower together—have I mentioned how sexy Ian looks with his black hair all plastered down across his forehead and water streaming down the middle of his chest?! We even got in a thorough 'butt inspection' (both of us were a little pink and tender, but other than that good to go I think).

Ian was starving, so he opted to zoom to the kitchen on his sports wheelchair rather than crutching. (He's got all sorts of different chairs—seems like one for every occasion. I'd given him shit a few weeks back about wheelchairs being like girls' shoes for him; that earned me a massive tickle (I'm way ticklish, that's my kryptonite), he didn't let up 'til I said I was about to pee in his bed.) Ian whipped into the kitchen and started helping him mom. I helped myself to coffee—she tried to tell me the old 'it'll stunt your growth' line, but I told her in no uncertain terms my family genetics would stunt my growth more so than coffee!

Ian's dad made his way in and collectively we got breakfast made and on the table. Then the discussion turned to water polo and the events of yesterday. Ian's dad had taken a bunch of pictures which he showed us. He'd done an awesome job of catching Ian in action! I made him promise to send them to me (without telling anyone that I would use them as the basis for sketching Ian in action!). We helped clean up and then sequestered ourselves in Ian's room for as much cuddling as we could get before I had to head home to actually get some homework done. I tried not to rush through it before I hauled out my sketch book and went to work drawing my man in his water polo glory. The photos provided really accurate context, but I was focused on a much more up close, 'Competitor Ian' picture of the game. I wanted to capture the fierceness and intensity in his eyes. By the time Ian and I got in our 'good night' call, I was well on my way!

I couldn't get to school fast enough the next morning. Mom jokingly asked why I was in such a bouncy mood, but I couldn't really tell her that Ian and I had fucked each other Saturday night and were desperate to hold each other haha! I was waiting out front when he rolled up, God he looked good! We were just hanging out chatting and whispering to each other how much we each wanted to kiss, touch, 'do it again'! Danny walked up, looked at us. Stopped. Look hard at Ian. Turned, looked hard at me. I think I kept a straight face for 3 or 4 seconds before I broke out in a gleeful grin.

"You guys did it didn't you?! You took each other's virginity?"

They say timing is everything and this couldn't have been a more perfect example. I smirked, lifted a cheek, and squeaked one out! (Serendipity right?! PSAT's coming up next year—gotta work on the vocab!)

"Oh my God! Do you need to check if you messed your pants?"

"No, no, I'm good it's been 24 hours. I'm all closed up I think."

"More like 28," Ian offered, "No wait. 28 was you in me. Me in you was, what, 32…33?"

"The first time or the second?" I asked.

"Well, I count it as once, even though I did it twice."

"Good point, you never withdrew! I think that's accurate—once I mean."

Donny just shook his head laughing, "It's so unfair. With you gay guys, both of you are totally horny and happy to jump into the sack. Us heteros have to work for it!" (We did offer that it's not like we just hopped in the sack with whomever.)

Danny's love issues aside, the holidays and term final exams were fast approaching (oh and we were now heading into Philly every Saturday for water polo at the aquatic center. Ian was loving it and it was awesome to see him interacting with the other para-athletes!). It turned out my brothers and sisters, as well as Ian's wanted to spend Thanksgiving with their significant others—in exchange for Christmas. Since we were going to be a small crowd, I convinced my parents to invite the MacLeod's to our house for Thanksgiving, which made Ian and I very happy. It would be the six of us as well as Oma and Opa who were coming to visit from Kansas.

I had called them to tell them I was gay and all about Ian (truth be told, dad told me he had already had a conversation with them—which is the only reason I was brave enough to do it). They were really sweet about it and said they couldn't wait to meet him. We had to go to school on the Monday before Thanksgiving which made no sense to me—that day took forever to get through. Tuesday was spent over at Ian's. We swam in his heated pool, played one on one water polo, and slipped into his room when his parents when grocery shopping. And yes, we made love again.

Oma and Opa arrived the next day, so dad and I drove into Philly to collect them at the airport and we had a quiet evening with the family. Thursday morning, I awoke to the awesome smells of a feast in the making. If my nose was correct, Oma and mom had the turkey already in the oven. We always had all the usual Thanksgiving sides—mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, green beans. But then we had a solid showing from the Old Country— Jägersoße for gravy; Apfelkuchen, Spitzbuben, and Bienenstich for dessert! As soon as I showered and made my appearance, I was roped into chopping and mashing. It was controlled chaos, but so much fun!

The MacLeod's came over just after noon. I was totally nervous, but at the same time way proud as I introduced my boyfriend. Oma and Opa welcomed him with open arms, which made me so happy. I was beaming and had to wipe my eyes a couple of times. We all settled in the living room for a while and chatted—Ian and I sitting together on the couch and holding hands. Eventually Oma and mom headed back into the kitchen; and dad put on the football game. After a bit, Opa said he wanted to take a walk with Ian and me (he was never a big fan of American football).

I didn't expect a serious discussion, but from the moment we left the house headed towards the park, Opa was asking about our relationship. It wasn't like an inquisition or anything, he generally seemed interested. He had a very disarming way of asking his questions, and we found ourselves being way more open than we had ever been with our parents. He angled us over to a picnic table where Ian rolled up to the end and Opa and I sat on either side. The conversation paused as he hauled out his old Bavarian Hunter pipe and went through the ritual of loading the tobacco and then lighting it. I always loved the smell of his pipe, even though Oma always tried to tell him to give it up.

He puffed a for a little bit, looking at the two of as he did—he seemed to be contemplating us or something. Finally, he spoke, "You know, you're not the only boys to fall in love."

I glanced at Ian, he seemed as confused at that statement as I was. "Well of course Opa, they say 5-10% of people are gay. So, there are a lot of us."

Opa looked at me like I was a moron; then he blew a huge puff of smoke right in my face, forcing me to close my eyes and hold my breath until it past. He sighed, "Kleiner Max, why is it that every generation thinks they invented sex and the older generations are clueless? You know Oma and I had ten children. I think that proves we know a little bit about how it all works."

I grinned, although the idea of Oma and Opa actually having sex was something I didn't want to contemplate.

"Mine was not a general statement on society Max. I meant you're not the first boy in our family to fall in love with another boy."

Okay, that got my attention. I'd been out to Kansas to Oma and Opas; and I think I'd met all the aunts, uncles and cousins. If one of them had been openly gay I definitely would have picked up on that.

"Do I have a gay cousin?" thinking all the aunts and uncles were married, so they were out of consideration.

That earned me another blast of pipe smoke, but I saw that one coming and ducked. Then Opa reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a little picture. I could see that it was one of those old ones, with the scalloped edges. He stared at for a bit, then handed it across to me. Ian leaned in close so we could both look at it. It was a black and white picture of young Opa and another boy. Arms around each other, smiling at the camera with beer steins in their hands.

"You and your Opa are twins you know," Ian observed. He was right, blond hair, blue eyed, wirey, the young Opa looked a lot like me—he even had his head cocked to the side in the picture like I always do. "And look, they're both wearing those leather pants!"

"Lederhosen, I have them too, the shorts and the knickers. Every Eicke man has them," I grinned.

"Yeah? Oh, I am going to so need to see you in those!" Ian laughed, wiggling his eyebrows.

Another puff of smoke reminded us that Opa was here, "Who is the other boy Opa?"

Opa sighed, "I have blessed with two great loves in my life. Augie, your Oma of course, and Heinrich, the boy in the picture. We were childhood friends and became lovers as teenagers."

My jaw dropped, "Lovers? Like you guys had sex? " I saw the look in Opa's eyes and held my hands up, "No smoke! Okay I understand—yes, you guys had sex!" Holy shit! My Opa had a boyfriend just like Ian and I. Heinrich even looked a little like Ian—black hair and taller than Opa.

"Yes, we had sex. We did everything two boys could do with each other. We were very much in love. We dreamed of running away to America together."

"What happened?"

"The Nazis, and the war happened to us, and everyone else. That picture was taken in the summer of '39, right before the war started. For a while, things were okay. We lived in a small farming town; the war was far away. We were in love and happy, spending all our time together."

"But then you got drafted?"

"Not quite. Apparently, we're weren't as discrete as we thought. It was the spring of '41 when the mayor of our town knocked on our door in the middle of the night. He was a good friend of Papa's. The police had been to his office and were planning on coming to question Heinrich and me the next day."

"Question you? About what?"

"About our relationship. It was illegal in Germany back then. If the authorities found out, we would have been sent to the camps with pink triangles."

"The camps?"

"The concentration camps. That's were the Nazis put those they hated—the Jews, the homosexuals, gypsies, politicals."

I felt cold and shuddered. I wanted to curl up in a ball. I knew enough about WWII history and the Holocaust to know the horrors that happened back then, it just never occurred to me that that it had come so close to my family, "So, what happened?"

"Papa had me pack a bag, while Mama ran next door to Heinrich's. Papa and Heinrich's father drove us to Munich that night. It was the only way to save us, to get us far away from home. First thing in the morning, we enlisted. Me in the Kriegsmarine, Heinrich in the Wehrmacht."

"That's how you ended up on a U-boat and then Kansas?"

"Opa nodded, "Heinrich was sent east, into Russia. For a while we sent letters back and forth. But then those stopped. He never came back; lost to the Steppes"

"Do you still miss him?"

"Everyday. I keep him close in my heart. I will always remember what we had."

"Even though you fell in love with Oma?"

"Yes. I was very lucky. Once we were captured, we were sent to a POW camp in Kansas. They let us go out to the local farms to work. I was a farm boy; I couldn't have been happier. Augie was the daughter of the farmer. His tractor was broken down and rebuilt it. She helped me, even knew what a spanner wrench was. She was feisty as hell; I fell in love with her right then."

"So you're 'bi' then?"

Opa shrugged, "I don't like labels. The Nazis liked labels. I'm a boy who fell in love with Heinrich, and then fell in love with Augie. It's that simple." With that, he tamped out his pipe and announced it was time to head back to the house—discussion over. Opa was very cut and dry like that!

When we got back to the house, Ian dragged me upstairs for a Lederhosen fashion show. He really liked how the shorts kind of hung on my hips; and he loved how only two buttons would release the front flap and give him ready access to all my goodies! After the shorts, I showed him the knickers, complete with formal shirt and my Trachten jacket. Ian insisted I wear it down to dinner, I think he found the leather very sexy. He kept rubbing my leather covered thigh all during dinner—which of course had me rock hard and leaking the whole time. Thank God for thick leather—no telltale signs!

As expected, we did go round the table with the 'What are we thankful for'. I'm not big on being the center of attention, but for the first time I really felt I had something meaningful to share. I stood up and took a deep breath. I got a lot more courage as I felt Ian's hand take mine.

I am thankful that I have such loving parents, who are still a little bit hippy, so they're chill.

I am thankful that I have such an amazing Oma and an Opa who very much understands me. Also that Opa got off the U-Boat, and that he knew how to fix Great Opa's broken tractor.

I'm thankful that Oma knew what a spanner wrench was and caught Opa's eye.

I'm thankful that the world is a more accepting place for gay people than it used to be, even if it's not perfect yet.

But mostly I'm thankful for my Ian. The most beautiful and amazing boy I've ever met.

So brave. So fierce. So determined. So loving. So tender. So mine!

Ian and I had a few more quiet conversations with Opa in the days following, before he and Oma went back to Kansas. On the one hand I was very sad that he and Heinrich had lost each other; but as Ian reminded me, if that hadn't happened there wouldn't be a 'me' (and then as Ian said, he would have been very sad! I didn't argue with his logic!). It was amazingly comforting to know that Opa really did understand, and knew, exactly how Ian and I felt about each other. Ian came over to say goodbye to Oma and Opa when they left for the airport. We gave them multiple hugs and kisses and they made us promise to bring Ian out to visit next summer.

Monday after Thanksgiving rolled around faster than you'd expect, and we were right back in the thick of it. It was less than four weeks 'til Christmas break—a week plus of classes, the Reading Period, and then exams. Right after exams, as we broke for Christmas was the Winter Gala—a dance and social event for Haverford Prep's Third through Sixth Form students. It was a huge social event, and people were pulling out all the stops to invite the (hopefully) love of their lives!

Ian and I were working away in Study Hall. I'd been making fairly good progress on my algebra problems when I realized he'd stopped working. Head still down, I peeked up under my eyebrows and met his stunning blue eyes, "You'll never get your homework done if you keep losing yourself in my beauty," I smirked.

"Good point, but that's not what was distracting me," he whispered. I just cocked my head, indicating he should expound further.

"I want us to go to the Gala together." He said very solemnly.

I knitted my eyebrows, "I figured we'd go together—you, me, Danny, Alecia, Jenny, the other from our lunch table."

"That's not what I meant. I want us to go together—you and me."

I leaned back in my chair, and contemplated my boyfriend. That thought had broad implications. Us, together, as a couple! Of course, we were out already, kind of, sort of—parents, our close friends, and probably a fair number beyond that. But this would make it completely 'official' to the whole school—this would be a statement, at least for us, there were others already "Out", so it's not like we would be trailblazers.

"No going back if we do that you know."

"Would you want to go back?"

"Hell no. I'm going to marry you."

"Oh you are, are you!"

"Yep. I have a plan.

"Well okay then. We're going to the Gala together."

I smirked, harkening back to our first morning in bed, "Well, you haven't officially asked me. A boy likes to be asked you know."

He grinned, "Okay." And then he just went back to his homework!

"Well?!" wondering if I'd overplayed my hand.

He grinned, "Don't worry. I have a plan. All in due time." I guess I deserved that I thought as I pondered what his plan might be.

I didn't have to wait too long. Danny and I had just gotten through our German final and were sitting at our lunch table waiting for the others when I caught him flicking his eyes up behind me. I started to turn to see what was up when he stopped me, "Don't look. It'll be so much better."

I heard people moving up behind me and then the music started. I recognized the tune right off the bat. If there were ever a 'Gay Name That Tune', every gay boy would get it in two beats. The blush was already creeping up my neck as I heard "Young man…" and turned to see 'Indian Ian' with four other guys from the class—cop, construction, cowboy and biker—dancing to the tune of Y-M-C-A! Well, I guess if you're going to make a statement, there's no point in being shy about it—and my boyfriend was anything but shy! He had the most ridiculous dime-store headdress on (very PC of him!)—though I must say with his canes, his 'A' and 'Y' were really impressive!

I stood up and watched, totally surprised. And yes, totally blown away by my boyfriend's 'Plan'. When they finished their dance, the cop and the construction worker unfurled a long banner from end to end that read:

Ian beloved of Max

Wants to go to the Gala

Will you be my date

Now who could say no to an invitation like that—I mean Haiku, come on! Of course, I said yes, and just to make it clear to any of the clueless students in the room, I wrapped my arms around Ian and gave him a big fat kiss! It was definitely a very gay event—statement made! Danny insisted that we get a picture with me sitting in Ian's lap in his wheelchair. At the crowd's insistence, I camped it up (this time only!) and took a picture sideways with my legs kicked up. I thought I was done there, but they made me take two more—one facing Ian with my knees on either side of his legs; then another with me facing away from him (it seriously looked like I was impaled on his thick one!).

We still had our Biology final to get through that afternoon, so it was back to the grind. Thanks to Ian's tutoring, I felt very confident going into that test! I quickly scanned through the essay questions at the start and gave Ian a quick grin—we'd definitely covered all of them, yea! By the end of school that day, Ian's 'Prom-posal' had faded to the background as other, even more over the top, invites were made—proving that high school social drama is rather fleeting! I showed the video of Ian's invitation to mom and dad that night and they were very impressed—way more than they had ever done 'back in their time'. Mom wanted to know what the issue was in the background though. I hadn't noticed, but watching the video, you could see Jason and Dennis clearly having a big blow up behind us. You couldn't tell what they were saying, but it was definitely going back and forth. Finally, Dennis just threw his hands up and stomped away.

I didn't have the chance to mention it to the others the next morning, but surprise, surprise, Dennis came up to our table at lunch and asked to sit with us. Have to admit, none of us ever expected that to happen; but we made room and he pulled up a chair at the end of the table, basically between Ian and I. It was a little awkward at first as it's not like he was a guy we normally talked to (though he was the nicer of the Jason-Dennis team).

Then he just blurts out, "I'm gay too."

Ah, okay. Guess that explains the 'can I sit with you'! "Are you coming to the Gala this weekend?" I asked, not sure what else to say.

He snorted, "Was planning on it, but it turns out the guy I thought was my boyfriend isn't gay! Sure could have fooled me the way he was into fooling around."

I caught Danny's eye and he flicked his head towards another table. A quick glance revealed a very red faced, clearly not happy, Jason glaring in our direction. You didn't need to be a rocket scientist to put two and two together there.

"You could still come if you want," Ian offered (I guess he's more of an olive branch guy that I am). "We have a whole table, there's definitely room. Not everyone has an actual date." Dennis smiled and gave a non-committal thanks.

By the end of the week, we'd survived exams and the Winter Gala was upon us. Ian had insistent that I wear my more formal Lederhosen and Trachten jacket—I only agreed because I knew there would be people there in 'suits' and sneakers, so I wouldn't look too out of place. Ian represented his Scottish roots as well—wearing his blue/green MacLeod Tartan pants with his black Prince Charlie jacket. He looked stunning! We got pictures at home before we left and at the event itself. In the end, Dennis took Ian up on his offer, and he even brought a date—a cute redheaded Freshman from the track team named Liam!

The band was pretty good and played a lot of songs you could dance to. Ian and I even got out there for a few dances. They were really more 'hugs while slowly shifting' than real dances—but that was due as much to my complete lack of rhythm as it was Ian's legs and braces! I proved that when Jenny dragged me out for a dance and everyone saw how pitiful I was! I was more than happy to hand her back to Danny and kick back with Ian to watch.

It was a wonderful evening. Everyone was very relieved to be done with the term and exams—though we were yet to know the outcome of our finals! The only drama was when Jason showed up and decided to pick a fight with Dennis. Jason was three sheets to the wind when he staggered over to our table—either he'd started out pre-gaming, or he'd snuck booze into the Gala (probably both)! He started giving Dennis all kinds of shit and then that little redheaded freshman put a fist into Jason's gut to shut him up! Jason kind of looked cross-eyed for a couple of seconds and then spun, spewing his dinner and how ever many drinks all over the dance floor!

Oh man—talk about disgusting—the odor was beyond toxic! Everyone cringed and recoiled in horror. The chaperones swooped in like fighter planes and hauled Jason out of the venue. We all feigned no knowledge of what triggered his 'technicolor yawn', no one was going to throw the young hero under the bus! I did feel sorry for the poor janitor that had to clean up the mess—they should have made Jason do it himself.

Finally, they called last dance so Ian and I rallied for one more. Then the lights came on and the Gala was over. We all made our way outside where Ian's and my dad were picking everyone up for an after-party and sleepover at Ian's house. There seemed to be an awful lot of police around, but I guess they wanted beefed up security to preclude anything getting out of hand—better safe than sorry.

Ian's mom had a pizza and sodas all set up out by their pool. They had the heaters going and everything, so it was really nice just to kick back and relax. Everyone was starving—I guess dancing works up and appetite. In no time we were stuffing our faces and rehashing the events of the night. Ian and I sitting together on the couch, when I felt his arm slide behind me and pull me in close. I thought we were just cuddling, then I felt him tugging on my shirt. I lifted myself up just a hint, and he pulled it out of my lederhosen, then without missing a beat, he slid his hand down the back of my pants. I casually leaned forward to give him more room. I tried, I really tried, to hold the conversation as he slipped a finger down my crack started tickling my hole.

Finally, Ian took pity on me (or more likely just got too horny!), "Max, you're so tired you can't even hold a conversation. Let's get you into bed." I almost broke his hand off in my Lederhosen jumping up off the couch! I saw Danny smirking as he caught Ian yanking his hand out of my pants. We retreated through the French doors into Ian's bedroom; as the rest of the crew started moving towards the designated 'Boys' and 'Girls' bedrooms upstairs.

By now, Ian and I had the 'pre-sex' preparations down pat, so we quickly took care of the bathroom requirements and made our way to his bed. Now it was time to implement my 'Plan' to close out our magical evening! I sat Ian on the edge of the bed and sensuously stripped him naked—he was rock hard and standing tall so to speak when I slipped off his boxer-briefs. Then it was my turn to put on a little show as I stripped myself. As I finished, Ian started to lay back on the bed, but I grabbed him and pulled him back upright.

I grinned at his puzzled look and simply said, "I have a Plan." Then I knelt down, grabbed his braces, and stated to fasten them back on his naked legs.

"You going kinky on me Max? Are we going to do some disabled porn?"

I stifled a laugh, "There's no such thing as disab…no, never mind, there probably is disabled porn, but no we're not doing that…I don't think!"

"Okay, so what is this mysterious plan of yours and why do I have to wear my braces on bare legs—never done that before!"

I finished and stood up, reaching out to pull Ian upright against me, "You, my amazing boyfriend, are going to fuck me standing up!" I shifted around and sat on the very edge of the bed, pulling my feet up on the mattress, and whispered, "And I do mean fuck!"

I then proceeded to lube and stretch myself in the must seductive manner, or at least I hoped it was, it might have been totally ridiculous. Though if the look in Ian's eyes and the licking of his lips were any indication, I was hitting the mark! He propped his braced legs against the edge of the bed and took to rubbing the swollen head of his cock all up and down on the insides of my thighs while I prepped.

Ready, I scooted a little closer to the edge and smiled up at my tall cutie towering over me—oh, I liked being in this position! I reached down and took hold of him, positioning his head against my tight pucker. Ian wrapped his arms around my bent legs and probably using more upper body strength than lower, pushed against me while I pushed out. I gasped and shuddered as his head popped in, then smiled as I felt him pull back out—by now he was well aware that I just loved, loved, loved the feeling of first entry (I kind of did it to myself a lot when I straddled him!). Again and again, he spread my hole with his mushroomed head, then pulled back out. Each time making my rock-hard cock pulse up and down and ooze out more precum onto my abs.

One last time he eased in, and then leaned forward, pressing incessantly as his shaft smoothly sank all the way into the hilt. Both of us moaning as he bottomed out, his black pubes brushing against my little jock butt. I scrunched my abs and lifted my torso up so we could kiss, our tongues dueling for dominance as I flexed my hole around his thick shaft. Then I lay back down, tensed my legs to give him solid leverage, and smiled up at him.

The look in his eyes made my heart melt as he truly fucked me—so happy, so fierce, so large and in charge! I could see his chest, abs, and arms flexing as he quickly figured out how to maneuver to piston in and out of me. Ian had the full length of his cock going in and out; sometimes even popping completely free before he thrust back in. Each thrust had him rubbing hard against my prostate—making me splatter precum all over my chest and abs. I stroked myself to keep right on the edge as I sensed him getting closer and closer. Then I went to town so I climaxed right before he did, my first rope catching me right in the face (is there such a thing as 'auto-facial'?!). As I spasmed and writhed, Ian gave one final thrust and came—I could feel him twitching inside me.

Then he gasped, "I'm…going…to…collapse!"

Final part of my plan—yes, I had actually thought this through! I sat up as he pulled out, wrapped my arms around him, and then dropped my legs off the bed and hooked my feet on the insides of his shins. Then I rolled backwards, pulling Ian back into the bed on top of me—fulcrum, leverage, pivot! How's that for a non-science kid?!

I lightly ran my fingers up and down his sweaty back as the two of us lay glued together with comingled sweat and cum. I could feel his heart pounding against mine. Both of us panting, grinning, kissing, locking eyes, whispering 'I love you' back and forth.

That's when we heard a giggle from the other side of the window. We both looked at each other surprised—that was a girl giggle! Then we heard a groan, a boy groan. I pushed myself up and reach for the curtain so I could see what was going on, but Ian smacked my hand away. "Someone's having sex! I just wanna see who it is," I pouted.

"Let them have their moment, just like we did," Ian admonished, "Guarantee we'll know who they are by the end of breakfast in the morning!" I thought about arguing, but a. he was right and b. he felt way too nice lying on top of me! So I acquiesced, got him out of those damn braces that were gouging my legs, tucked in at his side, and we promptly passed out.

He was wrong about finding out by breakfast though. We were awakened to a ruckus outside as Opa would say! This time I did pull the curtain aside only to see Ian's mom, arms folded over her robe, looking none too pleased. I followed the twin red lasers emanating from her glaring eyes across the patio. They ended at a buck-naked Danny, dancing around the pool deck with one leg in his boxers, the other tangled up in the same (news flash—Danny has pubes now!). The pool won, or the boxers won, take your pick. Either way, Danny ended up in the water with a massive splash (at least the pool's heated)!

"Better go rescue him," Ian snickered, barely able to contain his laughter.

I leapt from the bed, snagged a pair of athletic shorts from my bag and pulled 'em on as I headed out the door. "Cheery Good Morning, Mrs. MacLeod. Let me help sort this out!" I offered in my most helpful voice!

She hid her smirk fairly well, "See that you do Max. Let young Master Sterling know that he and I will be having a discussion regarding appropriate behavior later on!" And with that she turned and headed back into the house.

"Yes Ma'am!" I called after her. Then grabbed a rolled beach towel from the shelf (casually wondering what, or who, the figure was underneath the blanket ion the couch) and hustled over to the ladder to help a rather bedraggled Danny out of the water.

"Nice pubes, Danny!" I observed as he climbed the ladder.

"Thanks Max," he proudly acknowledged as he thrust his pelvis out so I could get a better look.

"Shrinkage Danny? You shouldn't be suffering from that, the pool's heated"

"What? I'm not shrink…oh piss off Max!"

"Better head inside Danny. You can use Ian's shower to clean up."

"Thanks, can you snag my bag, it's next to the couch. Oh, and can you help Jenny out too?" he nodded towards the mound under the blanket. Then hustled inside.

I walked over and gently tapped the blanket on the head, or at least what appeared to be the head. "Jenny?"

"Is she gone?"

"Yeah, she's gone back inside. Coast is clear."

Jenney pulled the blanket off her head, looking totally distraught. "She caught us Max. Naked. She has to know we had sex—God how embarrassing. The walk of shame and I'm only a sophomore!"

I pulled her in for a little hug, "Don't worry Jenny. Ian's mom is totally cool—she's just going to rake Danny over the coals. Besides, she's seen me do the Gay Walk of Shame a ton of times."

"What's the Gay Walk of Shame?

"Easy, just like the hetero one, but when you sit down at the end, you kind of grimace and squirm—because, well, you know!"

"No way! You mean Ian's puts his thing inside you?!"

"Well yeah, it's kind of how it's done. Or me in him—we're versatile. But my point is don't stress about Ian's mom. Come on into Ian's room. Danny will be out of the shower soon and then you can get ready."

Ian had pulled on a pair of shorts as well and was sitting back in his bed when we got inside. I noted that he made no effort to cover his scars from Jenny—progress! We chatted until Danny finished up in the bathroom—Ian reaffirming what I had said about his mom being pretty chill (no, we didn't get into another 'who puts their thing in whom' discussion!). After Jenny freshened up, Ian and I teamed up in the shower—it was still fun soaping each other even if we were kind of quick!

Danny and Jenny were sitting together talking quietly when we got out—it looked like their budding relationship might survive the trauma of parental discovery! We hustled them out to the family room where the rest of our crew was starting to congregate; then Ian and I headed to the kitchen to help out his mom and dad with breakfast. I was tasked with shuttling coffee, tea and hot chocolate out to the other guests and then getting the table out by the pool all set up. Ian meanwhile was hard at work creating his infamous French Toast.

Needless to say, a dozen boys and girls made short work of the feast that the MacLeod's served up! There was a lot of rehashing of the previous night, again—with new, highly critical information updates from the wider social network. We found out why there had been a ton of cops outside. Seems the chaperons had called Jason's parents to come and collect him, and his dad drove up clearly intoxicated—like father like son, I guess! If the texts were to believed, he got hauled off in the back of a police car!

Shocker there started to be a few veiled comments about 'sleeping by the pool', 'diving', 'up periscope', and other thinly veiled sexual references—there are no secrets with this group! Jenny and Danny took it all in stride and gave as good as they got though. When we could do no more damage, everyone pitched in to help clean up and then we hung out in the family room until the parents started swinging by for pick-ups. I did see Ian's mom having a quiet conversation with Danny, by the looks of it, she let him off easy.

By late morning, it was down to just Ian and I. His parents had gone off to do some Christmas shopping. His dad was clearly not enthusiastic, but he gave us a wink and whispered they'd be gone at least three hours! They were hardly out the door when Ian was dragging me back to his bedroom. He was all eager for another go at 'standing sex' (okay, yeah, I was just as eager!). This time we did a 'flip flop', first round same as last night then second round with positions reversed. Ian kept doing the pull all the way out, then plunge all the way back in thing—complete with full color commentary. Then when I was standing, he told me to do the same. I have to admit, it was insanely sexy when I pulled out and looked down at his hole—it was just twitching, slowly opening and closing like it was asking me to come back in, which I did, again and again! Afterwards we lay face to face, gently caressing our fingers up and down each other's backs and butts while we grinned and rubbed noses.

"Do you think about us, Max" he whispered.

"Of course, I do. I think about you all the time."

"No, not about me, I mean about us."

"I told you I'm going to marry you and that I have a plan right? That's thinking about us."

"Yeah? So what's the plan?"

"Simple really. We date for two more years here at Haverford Prep. Then we go off to college—you in a pre-med program 'cause you're going to be a doctor. Me in an international relations program. We room together in the dorms as freshman; maybe off campus later. We get married when we graduate. I work while you're in med-school. Then you place somewhere, and 'the adventure begins'!"

"But what if we don't end up at the same college?"

"Won't happen. There's the top 20-30 premed colleges on the east coast. They all have solid IR programs too. Plan A is we both choose the same school; Plan B is you choose wrong, but my diplomatic skills prevail and convince you otherwise; Plan C is I can't convince you, so I suck it up and follow you."

"You would do that?"

"In a heartbeat. I'm not letting you get away Mr. MacLeod! Besides, college is the easy part. The tough thing will be convincing you to have 10 kids like Oma and Opa!"


This story is part of the 2022 story challenge "Inspired by a Picture: Things Are Looking Up!". 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.

The challenge was to write a story inspired by this picture:

2022 Inspired by a Picture Challenge - Things Are Looking Up!

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