A story (C) 2002/2003 by ZUSTARA ORUR. Contact address: email@example.com 2.0 May not be redistributed, commercial use prohibited!
English is a second language to me, so please excuse any goofs present herein regarding grammar, spelling. I try to do the best I can!
Legal mumbo-jumbo BS: this story features explicit descriptions of sexual acts between consenting male youths. The story is fictional, and only took place in my mind. If this sort of thing bothers you; you are under-age (and anybody cares about it); reading this story happens to be illegal wherever you may be right now; etc, please STOP READING. I won't get in trouble, but you might, who knows. If all is hunky-dory, feel free to continue, if that is your wish.
Also note that this is a real STORY centering around love rather than sex, those mainly interested in long descriptions of copulation and such may want to look elsewhere.
SPECIAL DEDICATION: My love and sincerest gratitude goes out to Dwayne, Pointblue, Daniel, Caeru, Blue, Taryn, Leonard, Warp1, Ryan, Ratatosk, Michael, Odius, Squidsgerbil, Tamsyn, Maxy and Genesis, all of you listed in reverse order of appearance, just to be a bit different. *Grin!* Special thanks to Jalaki for approving my posts in a prompt and regular fashion, my close friend IOMfAtS for looking over my stories and hosting them on his incredible website and finally, Comicality for having created the Library forum. Visit it at http://www.voy.com/17262/, read a story and give an author some comments. We all love it, please come and share the fun!
Was it wrong, what I was doing, the way I was feeling? Shouldn't I be grieving instead? Didn't Ali mean anything to me anymore? So many questions were bubbling in my head all within a few moments. Ali had never touched me like Brazil did, so naturally, so fully. He'd always been afraid to... It had mostly been me touching him. Even when he had his dick inside me he was afraid to touch me. Only when he kissed me could I feel him for real, then he'd wrap his arms around me and hold me gently, lovingly.
"It's okay man", I sighed out, almost having to strain to shape the words because I just wanted to gasp in pleasure and delight instead! Brazil gave me all those feelings I'd desired from Ali and so seldom got, without Brazil ever being aware of what it was he gave away, what it really meant to me. He was toying with my ears again, his fingers brushing my cheeks playfully, each touch sending jolts of pleasure into my spasming dick. He was making me as horny as I'd ever been before right there in the school hallway! If he knew I was well on my way towards an orgasm, how would he react? Part of me think he might just break out laughing, so amused by the whole thing he'd have to fight not to pee his pants. Part of me fears he'd get scared and run away. I was getting close to give away for real what I was feeling so I had to make him stop, somehow... "Hey, you", I managed to say in an at least somewhat normal-sounding voice. "The bell's about to ring. I need to get my stuff."
The hands stopped moving about, but still lingered a few moments. "Oh, sure. Okay", he said, and then they removed themselves. Brazil took a step back and I quickly grabbed my books and held them in my lap like a shield and adjusted my stiff dick so it pointed straight up, parallel to my own pretty flat tummy. Nobody would notice a thing in case anybody was watching, which I somehow seriously doubted by then. I felt kind of like a non-entity, nobody even acknowledged my presence, I even had to dodge out of the way of most people's path or they'd run me down in the crowded hallways. Not as if they were trying to be assholes on purpose, it was just as if they didn't see me, as if I wasn't important enough to notice.
It was the same when I walked with Brazil, nobody really looked at us, waved or said 'hi'... I hadn't thought much about it until then, it felt a little freaky, but comforting too in a way. I guess, if people don't notice you, they can't be mean to you either. As we walked, I noticed he was wearing the tight lycra shirt he'd tried to steal the day before. It sat like a second skin on him, showing off his stomach and chest in a magnificent fashion. He had no real muscle definition to speak of, he was just thin and slim, and he looked great. I could even see a hint of his cute nipples and belly-button. Looked like an outie! The shiny, lead or slate gray fabric of the sports-shirt matched his light tan perfectly, there were no wrinkles or folds anywhere on him. It was like a superhero costume in a comic and it was just incredibly sexy... I wanted to reach out and touch him just to feel what it would feel like but I didn't.
He also had the same three-color striped hairband, again just like the day before, but the pants were different. They were like a pair of running pants or something, dark, with a double white stripe down each loose-fitting leg. Only over his butt did they sit tight, though nowhere as tight as the shirt. I noticed a thin stripe of skin around his waist created by the small gap between pants and shirt. It made me incredibly horny every time I saw it flash by!
It didn't help he followed me all the way to my classroom with a hand on one of my arms near the shoulder either, and just as we got there the bell rang and he had to rush to the other end of the school to get his own books and then sprint to his class to not get hopelessly late. We said a super-quick goodbye as soon as the bell started ringing, so quick not even he managed to get a last touch of me. I felt a bit disappointed because of that...
I sat through the whole lesson without the teacher ever asking me a single question. It was if even his gaze just slipped right off me. It felt almost bizarre and made me think (as a joke), maybe I could skip my tests without anyone noticing... Yet, it also felt good somehow. I didn't need the extra complications of trying to make friends with strange people, including teachers. I had already gone through the pains of moving from one town to another when dad took over the previous store he'd run. All the kids had known each other through kindergarten and preschool and all that. I had been six years old and a total stranger. Even my sense of humor was wrong, nobody got my jokes, it was awful. Nobody really bullied me, they just didn't want to be my buddy that's all. Maybe if the school I had been at hadn't been so strict on nipping bullying in the bud and punishing the offenders in the most astonishingly harsh manner conceivable by young minds, I probably would have been tortured like there was no tomorrow. I was so totally awkward and out-of-place.
The only kid that had understood me was Ali. Oh jesus! Ali! My friend, my love, what should I do? I really LIKE Brazil! He liked me too I sensed, as a friend, but I KNEW I liked him more... He touched me like we were lovers even though we weren't, and I enjoyed it. Ali, my friend, my love, are you very angry with me?
Lunch break followed, Brazil came skidding around a corner as I emerged out of my classroom and then he managed to drop his binder and when he tried to catch it all his other stuff went flying too! Papers came slowly falling through the air like enormous snowflakes while his notebook, binder, books and pencase immediately clattered to the floor. Of course, he'd forgotten to zip up the soft-shelled pencase too so when a student in a hurry kicked it by mistake, it spewed out everything inside it across the hallway. People came running past eager to reach the corner store nearby to buy chips and soda just to avoid the dreaded cafeteria lunch, they didn't really pay any heed to poor Brazil's belongings! By the time we'd finally managed to collect all of his stuff, there were plenty of footprints on his books and papers, and his ballpoint pen had a crack running along the length of it, though the mechanism still worked. We were giggling again, alone in the corridor and we both reached for his eraser that had bounced off to the side at the same time. I got it in between my fingers, and Brazil got my hand in his, grabbing it and wrapping his fingers around it. Not squeezing, just holding my fist with his hand. I went stiff at once.
"Thanks... Again", the boy told me with a smile. "I don't know what I'd done without your help."
I grinned back. He was still holding my hand, and we were both crouching down in the corridor. "Without me, you wouldn't have been in this situation to begin with. Why were you in such a hurry anyway?"
"I didn't want to miss you", he replied sincerely. He was still holding my hand, and my dick was again so hard I kind of felt I had to hump something or simply go insane! I reacted by twisting around 180 degrees and raising my butt and placing it on a wooden bench that was conveniently placed just a foot or two from where the eraser had ended up. The maneuver made him lose his grip on me and that allowed me to hide my groin from view with my books and stuff, and then I stuck my free hand in under there and squeezed my hard dick repeatedly, rubbing the stiff shaft with my fingers through my pants. I found a little relief, but of course Brazil noticed! "Need to go, buddy?", he said with a sly grin. He thought I needed a pee! He didn't understand I was so horny I was about to die and needed relief in some shape or form...
"Nah, I can manage", I replied sheepishly. I was glad it was just him that had noticed my predicament, and glad he'd misinterpreted too actually. We were almost alone there in the corridor, I saw some guys hanging around talking near the other end in low voices (and they were not looking at the two of us), but that was it basically. "Let's go grab some chow, okay?"
We did. They served freshly cut square pieces of sun-baked asphalt with tar sauce in the cafeteria, it was a huge hit with the crowds! Uh, no, not really, but it gave us plenty of opportunity to nudge and giggle and kid around (though only quietly) as we tried to pick out the at least somewhat succulent bits out of that brick-like substance that was substituting for food, and Brazil simply could not keep his hands to himself. He noticed I'd jump every time he'd squeeze my thigh and he thought that was so funny. Cripes, how can you NOT realize that's like a total turn-on? Several times his hand got dangerously close to my dick as he squeezed my flesh and it was all I could do to not moan out loud of pleasure. I lived through lunch break though, and then it was another three boring periods until school ended.
Me and Brazil hung out every remaining break. I saw Kurt and some of his friends real quick a couple times, they were either skating or shooting hoops and once he gave me a look and a smile saying 'hi!' and I greeted him back the same way. He seemed glad to see me, though he did not approach to talk. After they let us out, I told Brazil I had to rush to dad's store to first do homework and then get my hours of 'real' work, I thought he might be disappointed but he said it was okay. He needed to get stuff done at home too or his hide would get tanned. I hoped he meant it just as a joke.
We said bye, and he gave me a quick hug unlike any hug a guy had given me before. He let me in so CLOSE, it was so warm and gentle. Brazil was just this bony slim kid, but he was also so soft and warm, I could feel the heat of him radiate right through that super tight shirt of his that I had given him...
I almost kissed his neck for the five or so seconds he held me.
The boy liked me as a friend. I WAS his friend already. Oh, what a friend he was! When I got to be on my own though I had a major guilt trip. I wanted to tell Ali about my new friend, and I remembered he wasn't around anymore and that made me incredibly sad, and then I didn't know if Ali would have liked Brazil either; he was a direct competitor after all. Even though Ali didn't like being gay, he had been kinda jealous over other guys he perceived were hitting on me (though it wasn't true most of the time; neither of us had really been 'out' for real (though many suspected and ragged on us), so nobody knew for sure I was taken. However, twice other guys really HAD been making advances on me, and Ali had become very upset, afraid of losing me. That made me feel even worse. What should I do? I couldn't turn away from Brazil, I just couldn't. He was the only guy that resembled a real friend! Sure I had Kurt sort of, but he would only ever be a part-time friend who might be there for me every once in a while, I thought. He cared if he saw with his own eyes I was hurting, but he didn't care enough to actually check up on me if I was doing okay apart from his waiting around a bit in the morning thingy, and I couldn't tell how long he'd keep doing that. Maybe he'd lose interest if he saw I wasn't likely to have another breakdown... It wasn't as if he'd call me and ask if I'd like to hang out with him and his skater buddies, we weren't that close, and I had a feeling we never would be either. They were their own bunch of outcast misfits themselves (by choice mostly actually, they all seemed to be decent people), and firmly intent on staying outcast it seemed to me. At least Kurt's friends made no attempts to let others approach them, nor did they approach anyone else. Kurt was a little more open-minded (he'd befriended me after all), but even he had his limits I suspected.
If I tried to get too close, I had the impression his friends would get annoyed or even feel threatened and force Kurt to push me away. Better to keep it the way it was. At least the little he gave was sincere. Better that than trying to push him to care more than he really did, or could.
Brazil though, with his mass of dangling braids and boyish facial features and slim sexy body... He had simply staked me out as his own. Not sure how he did it, but he had. Not in a sexual sense, but somehow he'd marked out that I was his...
Day after, I again met Kurt first thing in the morning. He tapped me on a shoulder when I came through the front doors and surprised me by taking on a serious expression.
He cut right to the chase after we said our hellos (me a bit hesitantly due to his seriousness), as we were walking slowly in the general direction of our lockers, not wasting any time on smalltalk. "So you've started hanging out with Dorian Mottau, huh?", he asked. It wasn't really a question though, he KNEW already.
"Yeah, so what?", I asked with an innocent shrug, knowing there was something serious coming.
Kurt sighed. "You know he's kinda bad news, right?"
I frowned. "You skater guys ain't exactly god's little angels either in the eyes of the rest of the world", I growled back at him. I made it sound worse than it really was. Not that anyone really looked at any of them like they were trashy people, just... Well, a bad influence on kids in general really, listening to rap music, wearing clothes much to big for them (sometimes ripped), lots of piercing shit in their faces, stuff like that. I immediately felt bad for speaking so harshly to him and thought he was going to get angry with me.
Kurt didn't. He just pulled me to a stop. "You know how many times Dorian's been picked up by the police?", he asked. "Six, all in the last year or so! That just those I know of. It's probably more."
"SO WHAT? It's not as if he deals drugs or anything, right?" I was desperately hoping it wasn't!
Kurt shook his head in sort of resignation. "No. He's a shoplifter, Nate. But that's bad enough, don't you think?"
"Look, I can handle myself alright? I don't need you as a surrogate daddy." I was pushing back even harder now, but no longer afraid he'd get mad at me. Actually, I didn't care if he did!
Kurt merely smiled. "I wonder what your real dad would say if he knew about Dorian. He probably wouldn't be too pleased I suspect!"
"He already knows, I know he does", I replied sullenly. Well, I assumed he did. The conversation we'd had the other day hinted at as much.
Kurt still smiled, just a little. Not a conceited smile, just a caring one. "Yeah, right", he said, as if he just made a mental connection. "I suppose he does, running the place he does."
"Huh, you know about our store?", I asked, big-eyed.
Kurt giggled childishly, which felt kinda strange after the serious, almost parental talk he'd just had with me. Well, he WAS just fourteen after all! "Sure! Where you think I get my boards and other skating stuff, buddy? You guys got the best selection in town, and it's within convenient boarding distance too from my dad's place, though you're certainly not the cheapest!"
I giggled too. "I'll make sure you get a discount!", I said with a smile.
"Don't bother", Kurt said with a playful slap on my shoulder. "My mom's loaded, she can afford it. I don't stay that often at her place because she's pretty busy, but when I do she likes to pay me off to lighten her guilty conscience."
He nodded quickly. "Yeah, well, sorta. Mom married a blue-collar guy, it didn't really work out. His fault for the most part actually I think, because he couldn't quite accept his wife made like three times as much money as he did. They're not divorced per se, they just live apart. They get along so much better now that they never see each other!" He giggled a quick laugh, and then I smiled too at him, and then led me off to the side so we could talk a little more in private. "Look, Nate. Uh... I kinda know why you were so sad a while back, and I guess, why you got so mad at me about Dorian."
"Uh...", I went too. "You do?"
He was speaking very quietly for some reason. The corridor was quite noisy and nobody cared enough to listen in, but it still felt safer that way. "You loved him. Your friend, I mean", he explained. "The one that died... For real, I mean. You don't have to say anything, I just wanted to tell I know and understand. I understood even then and I didn't say anything because really, it doesn't bother me, but I think you should know about Dorian. I don't think he is..."
"Gay. Word you're looking for is gay."
He smiled at hearing my dry, almost short tone. "It IS okay, Nate. I really mean it. Just... Just don't go overboard, okay? Dorian's a really shy kid usually, I don't know why he acts around you the way he does, maybe he's just glad to finally have a friend and doesn't quite know to make you stay, so he tries to physically hold you at his side you know?"
I nodded. "Yeah, I think I do. Thanks, Kurt..."
He smiled quickly. "Hey, no problem, buddy."
"By the way... Why is he so shy and lonely? ...Dorian, I mean?" I had almost called him 'Brazil' to Kurt's face, but I managed to stop myself in time, it felt as if that name belonged only to the two of us.
"I don't suppose he would have told you. Well, when he was like ten years old he was hit by a drunk driver when riding home from school on his bike. He wasn't that badly hurt, but he got a knock on his head and he lost his memory in the crash and I guess people thought he just started acting really strange after that. All his friends sort of abandoned him, I think. Not on purpose, they were just kids. They didn't know him anymore, the person they had known was forgotten, so he sort of got left behind when they moved on. I didn't really know him at the time myself, not that I do now either actually..."
"Oh." That was all I could say.
"Look, buddy. I gotta go now." He raised his hand in a goodbye gesture. "You take care, ok?"
I watched Kurt disappear into the crowd, and I started thinking... His mom was loaded, and she didn't even LIVE with him and his dad? Made me realize how little I really knew of Kurt, the fact I'd never really asked about him, or he actually didn't talk any about himself. Then again, what did I really know about anybody? Nothing, Brazil least of all it seemed! Then there was another hand on my shoulder that woke me out of my reveries, but unlike Kurt's hand, it stayed there. "Good morning, sunshine", a soft-spoken voice said through the din of the corridor.
My grin spread itself across my lips and never really left them for the rest of the day!
The rest of the week followed, not particularly quickly because I had never liked school very much, but it was rather okay on average since I'd have Brazil there at my side every break. I didn't see much of Kurt other than a short glimpse every now and then in a corridor. I guess he figured I had someone else looking after me. I couldn't have shaken Brazil even if I tried. Don't think I didn't consider it sometimes, Ali was there in my mind at all those times Brazil was not.
I would have promised Ali my eternal undying love if he'd but let me. I had wanted to tell him, many times, but I never knew how he'd react to it so I never did... Now it was too late. Did that mean I was absolved of my unspoken promise, or is a promise a promise no matter if you actually tell the other party of it or not? That tortured me during each lesson in school.
A K A L V
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