If you're reading this, you know that I'm dead. I intend to hang myself, as I think it will be a quick, easy way to end the pain of my depression. My neck should break from the drop. I'm writing to you because you are the only friend I have. If my death upsets you, I'm sorry, but I just can't take living anymore. Thank you for your friendship. I hope you will move on and find someone you really like.
Sadly, Mal’s death was apparently neither quick nor easy. He had thrown a rope over a rafter in his garage, put the noose around his neck, and stepped off a chair into space.
His neck didn’t break from the fall, and there were signs that he had struggled as he choked.
When he was found he was dead alright, but pain and fear were clear on his purple face.
Mal had been my neighbor and best friend since we were little kids. We played together and rode our bikes together and were constant guests in each other’s homes. We often slept together and even peed together. More recently we’d begun experimenting with sex. Mal had been my only friend. I know I was selfish, but I could think only of my loss, not of the forces that drove him to his desperate act.
In the days that followed, I felt no desire to do anything. I lay on my bed and alternately wept and gazed at my ceiling.
At Mal’s funeral, as I saw the casket being wheeled to the front, the awful reality hit me ─ Mal was dead and I was alone. My parents sat one on either side of me, and from time to time Mother looked sideways at me, perhaps wondering if I was thinking of following my friend into oblivion. She knew I was sad. Did she know how down I was?
And I was thinking of following Mal. During those days I began to consider how I would accomplish my own death. I certainly didn’t have the courage to hang myself, or jump off a bridge, or hold a gun to my head even if I had one. I thought about drugs. They were certainly available.
Mother thought I should see a psychiatrist. Father insisted that I needed to return to school, that getting involved in my classes would help me overcome my sorrow, or at least distract me,.
I sat through school uninvolved and unresponsive. I seldom even attempted to do my homework. Teachers were clearly concerned. I was sent to the guidance counselor to no avail. At home I simply lay on my bed, often crying as I thought about Mal and the good times we had shared.
My classmates, who had shunned me in the past, probably knew why I was acting as I did, but they did nothing to support me. In fact, they grew increasingly unkind.
In PE one day, Kevin, who had been appointed captain of one of the gym soccer teams by the coach, expressed his total disdain for me.
“Damn, I guess we get The Loser,” he muttered. I was the only one left to be chosen. I wasn’t happy with the name but it certainly fit. I was terrible at sports. I couldn’t catch or throw a ball worth a damn. I was a slow runner and in soccer my foot skills were almost nonexistent. Consequently, I was not an asset to any gym team. Occasionally, the PE coach let me keep score for a game, but more often he left me to the sharks.
Showers were required at the end of class ─ no exceptions. In the showers I noticed I was being scoped out by a new boy. He made no secret of looking me up and down. I turned so he had a good view of my butt.
At lunch later that day, I put my dishes on a two-person table which I considered mine. Since Mal had left me. nobody else ever sat there.
As I sat looking at the unappetizing slop on my tray, the new boy came up and said cheerfully, “Hi. Do you mind if I sit here?”
Shit, I thought. I can do without cheerful. But I responded, “Help yourself, but you’ll probably be ostracized if you do.”
Grinning, he replied, “No problem. I’ve been ostracized since I was six years old. There’s nothing the people here can say or do that hasn’t already happened.”
Why? I wondered.
Sitting, he said, “I’m Connor. I haven’t yet heard your name.” He looked at me questioningly.
I sighed and said, “I’m Graham, but I don’t think anybody here knows that.”
Connor chattered away until, when the lunch break ended, we went to our respective classes.
At the end of the school day, I was standing on the sidewalk beside the buses wishing I could just take one to nowhere when I sensed somebody beside me.
“Hi,” said Connor. “Which bus is yours?”
“I don’t take a bus. I walk or ride my bike.” I really don’t want to talk to this guy, I thought. But I was raised to be polite, so I asked, “What about you?”
“I don’t take a bus either. I live right over there.” He pointed across the road to the only building on the block, the huge Judge Marcus Olney Warner house. I knew it was built before the Civil War and had been passed down through the judge’s descendants but had recently been sold for over five million dollars.
Astounded and for once forgetting my sadness, I asked, “You’re in the Warner mansion?”
“I don’t know that we’ll keep calling it that because there are no Warners in my family.”
I stared at him, mouth agape. “But that place cost millions.”
“Yeah, but it’s only money,” Connor said, and cracked a beguiling smile.
Obviously, I came from a different economic stratum than Connor.
Before I could say any more, he asked, “So where do you live? I’ll walk with you.”
I wondered how long it would take for him to tire of walking with me. I might as well get this over with, I thought.
Embarrassed, I said, “I live on Partridge Lane.”
Before I could thank him for his offer and excuse myself, he said, “I know where that is.”
My curiosity aroused, I asked, “How do you know it? It’s a short, tiny street, and you’re new in town.”
“I know because I’m a map geek,” he explained. “If I study a map for a bit, I can lead you to any address in town. C’mon.” He began to walk off down the sidewalk. When I didn’t follow immediately, he stopped and looked back.
“I don’t think you want to walk with me. I’m pretty slow.”
“I’m in no hurry.” He returned to me, gently took my arm, and began to lead me to the crosswalk at the corner.
He was right about his map skills. We arrived directly at my little bungalow.
I was afraid he would want to go into my home, but instead he said, “Tomorrow, come to my house after school. Do you swim?”
“Yeah, I replied, “but the water will be a little cold in November. “
“I have an indoor heated pool,” he explained.
Backing off my doorstep, he gave a little wave.
“Bye,” I said but he was already gone.
That night as I lay in bed, my mind kept returning to Connor. I could tell my brain wasn’t going to let me sleep any time soon. I wondered if my thoughts about Connor were disloyal to Mal. I worried about that question for quite a while but finally decided that Mal had written that he wanted me to find another friend. It didn’t mean that I would ever forget him. He might even be happy for me.
I lay on my back, and without even thinking about it, I slid down my pajama pants and took hold of my stiff cock. As I moved my hand automatically up and down, I could picture Connor ─ his wavy black hair with golden streaks, his red lips, his slightly turned up nose, and the sexy cleft in his chin. His eyes went from green to blue to gray, and back again, reflecting his mood. I wondered how that happened.
Before long I felt rising tension in my groin and then the pulsing release as I shot cum all over my stomach. That was the first time I’d shot since Mal had been gone, and it was by far the best it had ever been.
As I lay regaining my breath, I reached with my right hand and scooped up some of my cum, which I put in my mouth. I savored the taste as I rolled it around in my mouth and then swallowed it. The rest of the cum slowly dried on my stomach as I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep for the first time since Mal had died.
When I awoke in the morning I quickly hopped into the shower and washed the dried cum from my stomach. I stood under the stream, reveling in the hot water. By the time I finished, my two siblings were pounding on the door.
I seldom took a morning shower, and at breakfast Mother asked why I had. I changed the subject.
Connor was waiting inside the front door of the school when I arrived.
“How was your night?” he asked quietly.
“Amazing,” I replied. “Would you believe I couldn’t get you out of my mind?”
He grinned. “I had the same problem, but it was you in my mind.”
I was 14 at the time. Connor was 17. The age difference didn’t seem to matter to Connor, but I thought he was a little old for me. However, I decided to see where the relationship would go, at least for the moment.
It was an unusual school; the middle and high schools were together in one building. There were even some combined classes, like PE, and at lunch there was a mixture of ages.
At midday, as Connor and I ate lunch at what I now thought of as our table, I began hearing some comments like, ‘faggot’, ‘queer’, and ‘fairy’. I wondered who they were directed at, and then I saw Connor looking very grim.
“Don’t pay any attention to those idiots,” he muttered.
So, I disregarded them.
After school, the two of us stood at the crosswalk waiting to go to his house. When the first bus passed us, someone leaned out a window and called, “Hey, fairy, gonna do some chicken fucking?” The bus had stopped for traffic, and we heard a lot of laughter.
“No,” Connor called back, “but if you’re asking for it, I could do some turkey fucking.” There was more laughter as the bus pulled away.
As we went up the sidewalk to his house, I asked, “What’s ‘chicken fucking’?”
Blushing a bit, he replied, “It’s when an older guy fucks a younger one.”
“Doesn’t that hurt?” I asked.
“I think at first it can. I’ve never done it.”
To me, Connor’s house was enormous. He showed me around, finishing the tour at the pool in the basement.
“I usually swim naked,” he said. “But I have a swimsuit which you can borrow in the dressing room.” He peeled off his clothes and dove in. His equipment between his legs was certainly far more developed than mine, and he had a thick bush. I hesitated for a moment but decided, what the hell, and I wasn’t far behind.
The water was warm but not hot. We both swam laps for a while. He was clearly the better swimmer, but he was bigger and taller than I was, so I wasn’t surprised.
We showered, washing each other’s backs and then drying each other, a new experience for me.
When we finished, I looked at the clock and told him I needed to hurry home, but he said to just call my mom because I was invited for dinner and the night.
At first, Mom was reluctant to let me stay. “Oh, Graham,” she sighed, “I don’t even know these people. Shouldn’t I at least talk with them before you spend a night there?”
I was insistent, and Connor spoke with her on the phone. Eventually, she softened and gave her permission.
Connor’s family consisted of only him and his parents. It seemed to me that there were too few of them for a house that size. The four of us dined together on food beautifully prepared by their live-in cook.
After the meal, Connor and I retired to his bedroom. The room was dominated by a king size bed, the first I’d ever seen. We played video games until we decided it was time to sleep.
As I stood on one side of the bed and he on the other, I said, “Some of the guys clearly think you’re gay.”
“What’s important to me is what you think.”
“Why is that important?”
He thought a moment before saying, “I guess because you’re the only one I’ve met whose opinion I care about. Well, I am gay. Does that bother you?”
“No. Not at all. I might be myself, but I don’t really know yet.”
“Okay. Until you decide, I won’t touch you, but I have to say that I’m really hot for your body.”
“My scrawny body?” I asked, amazed.
“Oh, you’re not scrawny and you’re filling out very nicely. Take off your clothes except your boxers and I’ll show you what I mean.”
As I stood in front of a full-length mirror, he pointed out how certain muscles had begun to develop.
Like most teenage boys, I had looked at myself in mirrors before, but for the first time I could see what he meant.
Connor said the same thing he had at the pool. “I usually sleep naked, but you do what you want.”
I opted for undershorts. I crawled into bed quite a distance from him.
Connor turned off the lights and said, “Good night.” I answered him and rolled onto my side.
The bed was amazingly comfortable, fitting to the contours of my body. As I lay in the dark, I again wondered if my thoughts about Connor were disloyal to Mal.
“Connor, I need to tell you about my friend Mal,” I said.
“For years he was my only friend.” I went on to talk about how Mal died and how sad I’d been. “I still miss him ─ a lot. I’m beginning to like you, but sometimes I feel disloyal. Is that crazy?”
“No. I don’t think so. I think it’s okay to have more than one friend. It doesn’t mean that I’ll replace him. That can’t happen and I don’t want it to, but you could certainly consider me another friend.”
“Thanks. We’ll see what happens.”
In the middle of the night I awoke. I was spooned behind Connor with my arm draped around his waist. My cock was hard and pushing gently into his butt. I quickly pulled away and he sighed.
He giggled in the dark. “Aw, gee. I was really enjoying that.” He sighed again, but I rolled over and we had no more contact until morning.
Neither of us said anything about what had happened, but it was certainly on my mind and maybe on his, too.
Over the weekend I rode my bike to the cemetery. Sitting on the grass beside Mal’s grave, I said, “Oh Mal, I miss you so much.”
There was no answer, although there was a gentle sighing in the trees which I thought might be Mal trying to talk with me.
“We had such great times together,” I went on, “and I really, really miss you.”
Again, the wind moved through the trees, almost sounding as though it was whispering.
“Are you talking to me?” I asked.
Another gentle gust of wind.
“I wish I knew what you were saying.”
The trees grew silent. I sighed, said goodbye to him and told him I loved him, something I’d never said when he was living. I mounted my bike and rode home slowly.
As I entered school Monday morning, a boy a year younger than me sidled up to me.
“Hi,” he said as he fell in step beside me. I didn’t pay much attention to him until he said, “You know Connor, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I replied.
“Why won’t he talk to me?” the boy asked.
“Probably the age difference,” I said.
“But how am I gonna learn about gay sex if older gay guys won’t talk to me?”
I froze for a minute, thinking. Even though I believed the boy was only a year younger than I was, he seemed too damned young to be talking about gay sex.
“And don’t say I’m too young,” he continued. “I’ve known for a long time that I was gay.”
“Well, I’m not the one to talk to,” I said, walking away from him as quickly as I could.
When I arrived at our lunch table, the younger boy was already there, biting into a sandwich.
Reluctantly I sat across from him. Connor pulled a chair over and sat down.
“Hi,” said the boy. “I’m Lance.”
Connor looked at him and then at me. He clearly was expecting me to respond.
“Graham,” I muttered.
“So, Connor,” Lance went on. “What are the good and bad points of being gay?”
“Who says I’m gay?” asked Connor.
“Everyone,” responded Lance, grinning.
Despite his social shortcomings, Lance turned out to be a good kid. He was also cute, I noted. His red hair and grin made me think of an imp and the effect was abetted by the vulnerability in his dark eyes.
Our table became known as the QT or Queers’ Table. While we were the targets of snide comments, we did our best to ignore them.
One day as Connor and I were leaving school, we saw a cluster of boys laughing and calling taunts loudly as they pushed around a smaller boy among them.
Watching for a moment, Connor said, “Fuck. It’s Lance.”
Without a word, we both dropped our book bags and plunged into the melee, where Connor grabbed Lance away from the other boys and I plucked up his book bag.
Connor was clearly angry as he shouted, “Shut up, all of you!”
There were some giggles, but surprisingly, they did as he said.
When they were more or less quiet, Connor said to them, “Why are you bullying someone younger than you? Are you just cowards? If any of you want to prove you’re not, I’ll take you on, one on one. Otherwise, pick up your shit and go home, and think about what you’re really saying about yourselves.”
Quietly, they picked up their book bags and headed for the buses. A few had the decency to apologize to Lance, who was so shocked he didn’t know how to respond.
When they were gone, Lance turned to me and Connor. “Thanks,” he said. “Connor, what would you have done if they had challenged you?”
“Well, when I first came to the school,” Connor said, “kids soon learned I was the youngest taekwondo brown belt in the state. Nobody has ever challenged me.”
“Oh. Is that really true?”
“Wanna challenge me and find out?” Connor laughed, and Lance grinned, shaking his head.
The three of us picked up our book bags and turned towards Connor’s home.
As we arrived at his front door, Connor looked at Lance and said, “I don’t believe you were invited.” Chastened, Lance turned and started down the walk.
Connor gave me a look with a raised eyebrow. I nodded and he called out, “C’mon, Lance. I’m inviting you now.”
Lance turned and bounded up the walk. When he entered the house, he stood in the round foyer gazing at the two curved staircases ascending to the second floor. “Wow!” was all he could say.
Connor led us around one of the staircases, through a door, and into a large, well-equipped kitchen. He suggested we sit at the big island in the center of the room, and then he put out sandwich ingredients for us to make our own snacks.
As we ate, Lance asked, “So has Graham spent the night here?”
“Damn!” I exploded. “You have a gift for asking questions which are none of your business.”
“Sorry,” replied Lance.
“Are you sorry because you asked the question or because you upset Graham?” asked Connor.
“I guess because I upset Graham.”
“Well,” said Connor, “yes, he has slept over but nothing happened. Now, I think you’d better butt out of our business.”
Even Lance knew better than to ask any more questions. By this time, he looked thoroughly embarrassed.
Looking at me and once again raising his eyebrow, Connor asked, “Swimming?”
“What about him?” I asked, gesturing toward Lance.
“I guess the pool is big enough for the three of us,” replied Connor.
“You have a pool?” asked Lance.
“Indoor and heated,” answered Connor.
“C’mon,” said Connor, and the three of us trooped down a winding staircase to the pool in the basement, where Connor gave the same little talk about swimming naked he’d given me.
“I’m good with that!” exclaimed Lance, immediately beginning to strip off his clothes.
“Shy, isn’t he?” I asked.
“Yeah,” said Connor. “We’ve gotta do something to bring him out of his shell.”
Soon the three of us, all in the buff, were in the pool. This time, instead of swimming laps, Connor briefly pushed Lance’s head under the surface. Lance came up spluttering and tried to jump on Connor, but the bigger boy was ready and re-dunked Lance, who again spluttered and laughed as he surfaced. He tried to dunk me, but I too was ready for him.
By then, Lance had had enough skin-on-skin contact that he grew erect. His cock was smaller than mine and he had almost no hair around it, but he was certainly ready for action. Connor and I were soon horny as well. The three of us continued dunking one another and laughing until we finally grew so tired we could barely stay afloat.
We lay on our backs in the water, catching our breath and simply relaxing.
At length, Connor asked Lance, “Would you like to stay for supper?”
Lance’s eyes lit up as he grinned and said, “Sure.”
“Should you call your mother?” I asked.
“Naw. She doesn’t care where I am as long as I’m not interfering with her and her boyfriends.”
Oh, I thought. Is there trouble at home?
“I guess I shouldn’t’ve said that,” reflected Lance. “It’s just that Mom and I don’t really get along and she doesn't seem to mind if I’m away from home. One time I stayed away for four days and I don’t think she even noticed.”
After we showered, we dressed and went back up to the kitchen, where Connor told the cook there would be one more for dinner. Then we went up to his bedroom, where Lance was clearly impressed by the king size bed.
“Can I try it?” he asked.
“Sure,” answered Connor, and Lance immediately flopped on the bed. “My god, this is so comfortable!” he exclaimed.
Meanwhile, Connor teed up a computer game which he and I began to play. That got Lance’s interest. He left the bed and stood behind us, watching.
When we were called to supper, Connor introduced Lance to his parents. It was another delicious meal, and I noticed that Lance had three helpings of everything. Doesn’t he get enough to eat? I wondered.
When we finished eating, Connor made it clear that it was time for Lance to go home.
“I can stay,” said Lance. “Like I told you, Mom won’t miss me.”
“That may be true,” replied Connor, “but it’s still time for you to leave.”
Lance looked at him, perhaps wondering if he should push harder to stay. He looked at me and I shook my head. He sighed, said “Okay,” and headed for the door, where he thanked Connor for the pool and the meal. Then, saying goodbye, he bounced down the stairs and popped out into the cold air.
“Well,” I said, “that was interesting.”
“Yes,” replied Connor. “What do you make of him?”
“He’s like an abandoned puppy,” I said. “He seems to have nobody to care about him. No wonder he’s latched onto us. The question is, do we want him around? He can be fun but threesomes are complicated. They always seem to end up as two on one.”
Connor nodded. “Maybe I was wrong to invite him.”
“I don’t think so, but we’ll need to make the limits clear.”
At lunch the next day, Lance once again joined us. He chattered away, seemingly oblivious to all the homophobic comments around us.
As we were finishing our lunches, Connor said, “Lance, you need to understand something. Graham and I are friends, and sometimes we need time for just the two of us.”
Lance looked crestfallen, but he nodded. “So, you don’t want me around.”
“He didn’t say that,” I responded. “He’s not talking about always. He said sometimes.”
“But how will I know when I can join you? I’ll really try not to get in the way.”
“Well, you could ask, and you could be a little more sensitive to any signals we give off.”
“I’ll try,” he promised. “But if I make a mistake don’t be angry with me.”
We all agreed that Lance would try and Connor and I would be clear about our expectations and needs.
That day, the three of us fooled around in the pool. At one point Lance leaped up and put his arms around my shoulders facing me while wrapping his legs around my waist.
We stayed that way for a few moments. Looking into his eyes I saw the neediest expression I think I’d ever seen.
Then he leaned forward, and before I could stop him, he planted a firm kiss on my mouth.
I had never kissed a boy, even Mal. I felt a thrill course through my body. I was greatly tempted to respond, but instead I said, “Lance, that’s pushing the boundaries. You need to ask if it’s okay before you kiss someone.”
His expression changed to one of abject sadness. “Are you mad at me?” he asked.
“No,” I responded, “but don’t do it again.”
The weeks until Christmas passed slowly. Lance did join us sometimes for swimming and suppers. Mom insisted that I be home for Thanksgiving even though Connor had invited me.
Meanwhile, as I had suggested, our threesome became two and one ─ me and Lance with Connor as the one. He was, after all, older than we were, and he had begun to grow apart from Lance and me, searching for a more mature friend. From time to time we were still invited to his house and his pool, but I no longer spent the night and Lance never did, although I could tell he was eager to.
The day before Christmas break, Lance asked if he could join us at Connor’s house. Connor agreed and, as we sat eating snacks in the kitchen, he produced two packages carefully wrapped in old comic pages from the Sunday newspaper. Handing one to each of us he said, “I don’t have any money, so I couldn’t get you much.”
I felt guilty accepting the package. I didn’t have anything for him, and I was sure Connor didn’t either.
Inside my package was some chocolate. “It’s Cadbury,” said Lance.
I thanked him and, with no forethought, I hugged him. He glowed.
“This is very generous of you,” said Connor, also hugging him.
Lance was invited to stay for supper that night, and after he left, Connor asked, “What are we going to do? I don’t have anything for him.”
“I don’t think it matters what we give him,” I said. “He probably doesn’t expect anything so whatever we give him will be a surprise.”
We agreed on a video game which could be played on a computer.
By then, Connor knew where Lance lived, so the next day we showed up at our young friend’s house with a small, wrapped package.
Connor knocked on the door. There was a bit of a wait, but eventually it was opened by a woman who had clearly been drinking. “Yah,” she said, “wha’ d’ya want?”
I asked for Lance. Without responding, she closed the door. We waited. At last the door opened to reveal Lance. When he saw us he stepped outside, closed the door, and gave us each a hug.
Connor handed him the package, saying it was from the two of us. He opened it eagerly but then his face fell.
“Thanks guys,” he said sadly. “It’s a great present but I have nothing to play it on, so you might as well take it back.”
He handed it to Connor, went back into the house, and closed the door.
“What now?” I asked.
“I guess we buy him a computer,” Connor replied.
“I can’t even afford the tax on a computer right now,” I said. “What money I’ve been able to save is all for presents for my family.”
“Paying for it isn’t a problem,” he said. “I can take care of that, but we should still tell him it’s from both of us.”
“That’s really not fair,” I protested.
“You get a nice card which we’ll tape to the package. That way, when we hand the computer to him with the card we can honestly say that it’s from both of us. And don’t worry about the cost. I’ve more than enough.”
The next day we went to the mall in town and picked out a nice laptop for Lance.
When we knocked on the door that afternoon, his mother looked at us and said, “You again?”
“Yes,” Connor said. “We have a little present for Lance.”
Again she shut the door without saying anything, but a few minutes later, Lance was there.
Handing him the package, Connor said, “This is from the two of us.”
Lance looked from one of us to the other. Then he took the package and tore off the paper.
“This is so cool,” he said, “but I really can’t accept it.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“It’s…it’s just too expensive.”
That was the second time I heard Connor say, “It’s only money.” He went on, “We want you to have it and enjoy it.”
There were tears in Lance’s eyes when he hugged both of us.
“Th…thanks guys,” he said. As he turned to go back inside, he said, “I’d invite you in, but the place is really a mess.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said.
“Why don’t you come to my house tomorrow afternoon?” suggested Connor. Lance agreed and we set a time.
Lance didn’t show up the following day, nor the day after. “What’s going on?” I asked.
“There’s only one way to find out,” said Connor. So, we returned to Lance’s house.
When his mother opened the door, she said, “Lance doesn’t wanna see ya.”
“Well, we want to see him,” I said. “Can we come in?”
She looked behind her and said, “The place is a bit messy.”
“Not a problem,” said Connor. “We want to see Lance, not your home.”
She sighed, opened the door more fully, and pointed to a closed door, saying , “Lance is in there.”
I knocked on the door and I heard Lance say, “Go away.”
“That’s not gonna happen,” said Connor. “Open the door.”
“Should I break it down?” called Connor.
We heard a chain being removed from the other side of the door. Lance opened it just a little. His face was damp and his eyes were red. It was clear he’d been crying. “Go away,” he said again.
“I told you that wasn’t gonna happen,” replied Connor. “Let us in.”
After a pause, Lance reluctantly opened the door and let us in.
“So, what’s wrong?” I asked when we stood in Lance’s room.
He started to tell us, but then broke down. He fell into my arms and sobbed. Slowly, we learned that his mother’s boyfriend had taken the computer and said he was going to sell it.
“Shit!” exclaimed Connor.
“I’m so sorry,” blubbered Lance.
“Look Lance,” I said, “it’s not your fault.”
“Right,” agreed Connor. “C’mon,” he said, taking Lance’s arm, “we’re going to my house.”
When we arrived at Connor’s house, we settled in the kitchen and prepared snacks as usual. Connor told us that we wouldn’t be able to stay for dinner because he and his parents were going out.
After we finished our snacks, we went to the pool as usual. Lance wasn’t his customary, playful self. I picked him up, held him close, and gave him a long, juicy kiss. He responded, and I felt his tongue on my lips. We continued to embrace while Connor joined us, hugging us both. I turned my head and Connor kissed me ─ for the first time. By then, all three of us had rampant boners. Wow! Two boys kissing me in one afternoon.
A thought flashed through my mind. I wondered what Mal would say. Then I thought, he’d approve and would probably join us.
Even after Connor moved away from us, Lance continued to cling to me. I broke the kiss and said, “Look, Lance, you’re too young to be getting so serious. You have years ahead of you when you can do anything sexual that you want, but right now’s a little early.
“You don’t understand,” replied Lance. “I’m just really lonely. Certainly, nobody at home cares about me. Mom and I don’t get along and I don’t like the guys she brings home. She drinks too much and usually just ignores me. You guys are all I have.”
“Lance,” I said, “would you like to come to my house tonight?”
His face lit up and he nodded.
“When we get out of the pool I’ll call my mom and be sure it’s okay.”
“C’mon, “ said Connor. “You guys are too serious,” and he began to tickle Lance, who he knew was very vulnerable. The kid squirmed and giggled and at last had to let go of me, sinking below the surface of the pool and trying to get away.
Connor didn’t let him. He grabbed Lance by the ankle and held him under until the boy began to struggle. Then he let him go and Lance rose to the top of the pool, gasping for air.
When we finished swimming, I did call Mom, and she said it was fine to bring Lance home. I explained about his home life, and she told me it would be okay if he spent the night.
My younger brothers, ages 11 and 8 were intrigued by Lance. He was upbeat and funny, and he charmed my parents. He also ate everything in sight.
After an evening round of video games, I said it was time for us to get into bed. Lance and I stripped and climbed into my double bed.
I lay awake for a long time thinking about all that had happened with me that fall. Lance turned over a couple of times before putting his arm across my waist.
“Go to sleep,” I whispered.
“I can’t,” he whispered back.
“Yes you can,” I answered. “Just take deep breaths and clear your mind.”
I don’t know if that worked for him, but it did for me.
I was awakened later by Lance lying across my chest and kissing me on my lips. Groggily, I responded. I felt his tongue on my lips and I tongued him back. Then I began kissing his ears and neck. After that I licked his chest gently. His skin was so smooth and warm. When I got to his nipples he moaned. I giggled a little and gave them some extra attention before I moved down towards his navel.
I moved my tongue on his cock, gently going up and down the firm shaft.
“Oh god,” he said quietly. “Stop, Graham. I’m gonna cum.”
I just kept licking, finally taking his hard cock in my mouth and moving my mouth up and down it.
Sure enough. In very little time he exploded, shooting cum into my mouth and onto my chest.
A part of me felt guilty doing what I did. Although only a year behind me in school, Lance really seemed young. But another part of me remembered the needy look he had given me on his first day in the pool.
When I finished, he whispered, “That was my first blowjob.”
“Mine too,” I replied.
In the morning, my phone rang. The phone’s caller ID told me it was Connor. Because Lance was there, I put the phone on speaker, and we heard Connor ask, “Did you two have a good time last night?”
“Oh, yeah!” exclaimed Lance.
How did Connor know or was he simply guessing? At first I was very embarrassed, but I decided that if he did know, what we had done was okay with him.
When the call ended, I suggested we take a shower. It was a little crowded with both me and Lance in our small shower, but Lance didn’t complain. We washed each other’s backs, giving special attention to butts.
Before we put on our clothes, Lance hugged me, reached up to kiss my mouth, and said, “I hope you haven’t been kind to me because you felt sorry for me. I really do love you, and I want to be with you always.”
There it was, the word ‘love’. Did I love Lance? I had never been in love, so I had no idea what it felt like. I was certainly fond of him. But was sex moving us to declare a love we didn’t really understand yet?
“Um…” I said, “I don’t really know what love is yet.” I went on to explain my hesitation in declaring love. “It’s just that to me love is a long-term commitment and I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet.”
Lance looked disappointed at first, but then he brightened and said, “Okay. I can wait until you figure it out.”
At breakfast, my older brother, James, asked, “Are you guys just friends or are you gay?”
I froze, then looked at Mom, who seemed equally curious.
Lance laughed. “James, you have no more discretion than I do. We’re gay, so get used to it.”
Mom slowly nodded and I could see her accepting the idea.
From then on, Lance spent more time at my house than he did at his own. My parents found him charming, and they became very fond of him.
We spent nearly every night in bed together. I certainly enjoyed that, but was it love?
The year I was a high school senior and Lance was a junior, he and I were still together, but I hadn’t yet figured out the love thing.
One day, when I got home from school, Mom said, “ I got a phone call from the school nurse. Lance was in an accident outside the building, and he’s in the hospital.”
I felt myself grow cold, and all the way to the hospital I wondered if I would lose him.
At the hospital, we learned that it hadn’t been an accident; he had been attacked by two men who beat him and shouted that they hated “queers”.
Lance was lying quietly in a hospital bed. His head was bandaged, and he had a broken arm as well as bruises on his torso. I took the hand of his good arm and just held it. His eyes opened, and he murmured, “Thanks for coming.”
By his third day in the hospital, he was sitting up, and when I went into his room, he was flirting with a nurse ─ a male nurse.
I think it was then that I realized I really did love him.
From then on, Lance and I became a committed couple. Connor occasionally invited us to his home and the pool.
Lance and I remained together even after I graduated from high school. He matured both physically and emotionally. Mother and Father made him feel very much at home. My brothers were welcoming. They taught him to play video games.
When Lance finished school, we both got jobs and rented a small apartment. Connor visited us often. He went to college where he found a wonderful, caring partner.
Occasionally, I thought of Mal, remembering what he had written about my finding someone else. I believed that he was smiling down on me and Lance, approving of the joy we took in each other.
As always, many, many thanks to my editors who pointed out numerous errors to me.
Also thanks to Mike for this website. Please donate to keep the site active.
The title image is by Max Fischer from Pexels.