I Finally Danced
The author of this story writes under several different pen names in multiple venues, and "I Finally Danced" may have appeared in other forums under an alternate nom de plume. The story however is authentically his, and he has asked us for simplicity's sake to catalog his more romantic stories in this particular archive under the single author name Jared Dreamer.
The last dance of the school year was almost over. I looked around the gym...dark lights, crepe paper streamers, kids huddled in close, sweet embraces. I was more interested in watching other people's love stories unfold than I was in finding a partner of my own. What a sweet, pretty heartache to see that many middle-schoolers so sweetly in love. Or maybe it was just lust at that age, with their hormones raging. But from where I sat, at least it looked like love. And it was sad-sweet to watch. Beautiful, but it hurt my heart deeply and it made me long for something I'd never had.
I wasn't really sure why I even went. Habit, I guess. Something to do. It's not like I was in demand or anything. As far as dances go, I'm Mr. Sidelines.
I came to the dance alone, like I always did. Occasionally, I'd get my nerve up and ask some girl to dance with me – usually some shy but acceptable bookworm – not exactly unpopular – but not one of the stars of the school either. I danced with them because I had to keep up appearances. It's the way the world works.
I'm only 13, but I know for a fact I'm gay. What can I say? When you know, you know. I dance with girls so people won't laugh at me. Middle school is intense. You might as well be under a microscope. If you don't do enough of the right things at the right times, you're branded abnormal forever. So you put in your time and hope the illusion is enough to keep everybody happy.
So, there I was on the bleachers, staring at the guys, as usual. It's hard to concentrate on anything female when you've already seen half the guys in your grade naked in the locker room. Soft dicks just like mine, but not quite like mine. Water trailing gently down the arch of their backs, wet and shiny waterfalls down their spines, into the valley of their cracks.
Laughing, towel-snapping, grab-assing, goofy, beautiful boys. Grinning, swearing at each other, calling each other names and being so cool. Wet-headed, towel-laughing, beautiful free. And me with a yearning in my heart, a tingling right down to the bottom of my dick and my soul, in love with all of them. But always on the sidelines of that perfect, boy universe. Unnoticed, shy and silently wanting. That's what it means to be 13, and gay, in middle school locker room.
But back to the dance: one guy in particular kept catching my attention...Jared. He lived on my street, so I knew his form well. I'd watch him in his yard, mowing lawn. Shooting baskets. Way too shy to approach him. Way to scared to talk. I'd been watching him all night, trying not to be obvious...and I was pretty sure he'd looked over a few times at me, too.
He was beautiful.
He had soft brown hair...the bluest eyes I've ever seen...a face and a body I would have killed for. He was dancing with Emmy B., a JV cheerleader – an incredible score for him, since he just moved to town five weeks ago. Usually, you have to be established for years before you're allowed the honor of having Emmy B. press her beginner-tits up against your chest at a school dance. Take a number, guys.
I'd been staring at Jared for more than a month now at home, from my window, in classes – dreaming – wishing. Knowing it was impossible. Angels like him do not spend their time with nothings like me. Because of his looks, Jared was instantly popular with the whole school. Even some of the eighth grade girls had been dancing with him tonight. I wondered what he looked like in the shower. We didn't have the same gym class.
I wondered if his dick was big. Did it have a soft, pink, mushroom head? Did his shaft have a light brown ring around the middle like mine? Did it get hard when he kissed girls? Would it get hard if he ever kissed me? What would his kisses taste like? Bubble gum? Root beer? Like the watermelon Jolly Rancher I imagined the most? Would he lick my tongue? Nibble my lower lip? Would I get hard when he kissed me and would I press my dick into his? Yeah. I knew I'd get hard if he kissed me. And he would too. Two boys panting, whispering, giggling. Whimpering sweetly, hungry and soft, falling in love.
I shook my head and erased the blackboard of fantasy. The music changed, the slow dance ended, and couples broke up – going their separate ways, talking with friends...scurrying off to their various corners, talking about the same useless crap they always talked about...couples, rumors, the kid-silly data stream...who grabbed who's ass during the song that just played, and who sprung boners during the clench. Giggles, whispers, silly raised-eyebrows. Same as always. Bravado. Immaturity.
But something happened that immediately broke me out of my thoughts and pulled me back to reality. I was shocked to see that Jared was walking straight for me. Coming over. Purposefully. Directly. I looked around quicky to see if I was wrong. Maybe there was somebody else nearby. Maybe he really wasn't coming for...
Nope. Nobody else around. It was me.
I sat up straighter. Tried to look natural. It's like he read my mind, knew I was looking at him, and now he was coming over. Probably wanted to tell me to knock it off. Stop perving. Stop being so gay. I wanted to hide under the bleachers. Disappear. Escape. Anything.
But it was nothing like that. He was nothing but smiles.
"You're Luke, right?" He smiled at me and held out his hand.
Look at his hand. I gasped inside. So perfect. Tan and beautiful. Long, lean fingers. Not baby fat fingers. Not the thick fingers of man. The long, lean, perfect fingers of a boy.
I could imagine those fingers wrapped around his cock at night, squeezing it gently as he made himself moan. Wrapped around my cock. I could see it in a flash. Long fingers. Slender, narrow sex fingers. Did he ever put one inside himself like I did at night? Did he ever moan and stretch and push one inside the hot tunnel of his hole, as far as it would go like I did? I could see those fingers right in front of me. Imagine one in me. Opening up for him. Blooming for him, aching to have it in me as we kissed.
"Hello?" he laughed. "Anybody there?"
I snapped out of it.
"Sorry," I said, extending my hand, nothing compared to his. Plain, nondescript boy hand. Like holding a candle to the sun.
"I'm Jared," he said.
"Yeah," I stuttered nervously. "I know. We're...uh...we're neighbors."
He shook my hand. His hand was warm. Not sweaty. Soft. He gripped my hand and held it for a moment, not letting go. For just a few extra seconds, held my hand. I was already getting hard.
"You're...Luke?" he repeated, prompting me for an answer. Eyes sparkling. Grinning at me. Undoubtedly wondering by this point if my parents' combined DNA had granted me the power of speech.
"Um, yeah," I stammered nervously. "Lucas, actually."
(Shit, shit. "Lucas actually????" What the fuck was that?)
"But, yeah. I mean, no," I said, flustered. "Luke is fine. Lucas. Luke. Whatever you want."
(Oh God. Kill me now. Could I sound any stupider?)
"Hi Lucas-Actually," he grinned, completely at ease, looking right into my eyes. "It's really good to meet you."
"Yeah," I managed meekly. "Good to meet you too. – Hi."
"I've been meaning to come over to your house to say hi. I see you watching me from your window when I'm out shooting baskets."
(Oh God. He saw me).
"I...no..." Oh, fuck I was lost. "I'm sorry, I..."
He was loving this. I could tell by his smile, he was absolutely enjoying making me squirm this way.
And I was squriming. All the way from my flushed neck to the steady zing in the back of my balls. Yeah. He was making me squirm in lots of places right now.
"You've been watching me all night," he smiled. "I must be a good dancer, huh?"
I felt my face flush.
"No," I lied quickly. "I was just watching Emmy B."
He rolled his eyes and grinned again, as if to say, "sure you were."
"Everybody watches Emmy B." I added quickly, hoping the ruse would stick. "She's pretty. You're lucky."
He sat down next to me on the bleachers.
"Too bad," he said softly, so no one would hear. "I thought you were watching me."
Time stopped. I didn't know if he was kidding, or not. I didn't know what to say.
"It's okay," he said gently. "I'm not mad. I was watching you, too."
My heart was beating so hard in my chest. I don't think I was breathing. My mouth was open, but no air was getting in. I felt dizzy. Blushing, heartbeat-dizzy.
"I'm going home," he smiled. "Wanna walk with me?"
I looked up.
"It's only eight," I said. "The dance isn't over."
"Okay, well...whatever," he smiled, standing up.
"Wait! No! Yes!" I shouted, and he laughed again.
"Yeah," I said, finally finding speech again. "Okay. Yeah. I want to walk home with you. Sorry. Yeah, I do."
Jared lived on the same street as me, about four blocks from our school. I'd seen the moving van unload their family's stuff the first weekend they were in town. I'd watched him ever since and (God) now I knew he'd seen me. So, it wasn't weird that he was asking me to walk home. He knew we were neighbors. He'd just never approached me until now. Never said a word.
"Come on," he said, offering his hand again to help me up. I took it. He lifted. He was strong. "This dance is boring. Let's go home."
"Yeah," I said again. "Sure. Okay."
Fuck. I could not put two words together in his presence. I was confused. I had no idea why he'd picked tonight to come over and talk to me. We'd never even said hello in the hallway before. There are rules in middle school. Social rules, rating scales. Hierarchy. My level just didn't approach his level. It wasn't done.
This was strange and scary and already important.
"I'm not mad," he'd told me, just moments before. "I was watching you too."
Like I mattered.
But how could that be, when he was him and I was me?
"I was watching you too."
Maybe I was completely misreading that. But it still felt scary wonderful. What if he meant...?
No, of course he didn't. Couldn't possibly.
But it didn't matter. At least I'd get to walk with him. Talk with him. More images for my jack-off sessions in bed at night. I had a lot of those sessions the summer I turned 13. I held world records. You could find me in the Guinness Book, with just a little bit of my own glossy cum drying on the page.
He stood up and nodded at me so I'd follow him. We walked across the gym, through the lobby and out the doors. The night was cool and laced with stars. Small-town crickets chirped on the grassy hills behind Lake Street.
"How come you never come over and talk to me when I'm outside?" he asked. "You shy?"
I kicked a stick out of my way as we started down the sidewalk.
"I'm not in your crowd," I mumbled softly. "Gotta stay in my place, right?"
He shook his head and smiled at me gently.
"You are so strange, Lucas-Actually."
I looked up and smiled.
"Luke," I said, feeling a little more confident. "Just Luke."
His eyes sparkled.
"Lukey, maybe?" I asked hesitantly.
My heart actually fluttered. He laughed. I blushed.
"Okay," he said, "Lukey. Yeah. I like that."
I put my hand over my eyes, embarrassed. He reached up, pulled it down. Smiled at me.
"You're weird," he grinned.
I shrugged. I was.
"All right then, Lukey," he asked with a grin, "what makes you think you know what `my crowd' is? I mean, what does that even mean?"
I shrugged again.
"Emmy B.'s a pretty good clue."
He laughed. "Emmy B.?"
I looked up, surprised.
"Nah," he said. "Too much ego..."
He paused for effect...
"...and way too many girl parts."
Now I really was speechless. My neck felt hot. The world felt slow and sparkly.
"Emmy B.?" he said again, kicked a stone and luaghed, like it was the funniest thing he ever heard. "Wow, you still don't quite know why I wanted to walk home with you, do you?"
"I...I..." I did, but I didn't. I stammered. Didn't know how to say it. But Jared wasn't afraid:
"Luke," he said, without the least bit of hesitation. "I'm into guys."
"Guh—guys?" I repeated moronically. Because certainly I was imagining this. Certainly I was going to wake up in my bed in five seconds, hard as a rock with another wet dream pumped out and sticky on my stomach.
"Guys," he repeated, smiling gently. "You know. Gay. Homo. Queer. I'm sure you've heard of us. We're in all the movies now."
He grinned at me. I gulped, not knowing what to say.
"I thought you were, too," he added casually. "I've been watching you for a month now. You keep looking at me in class. I figured you were interested."
My silence betrayed me. He looked at me. Smiled again.
"Yeah," he said simply. "I kinda knew you were. Kinda hoped it anyway."
I was silent. He reached down. Took my hand. Held it.
Held my hand as we walked.
"I like you," he said. "Don't be scared, okay? Let's just...I don't know. Let's just walk."
"Okay," I nodded, looking up into his beautiful eyes. "And I'm not scared. Just overwhelmed. I didn't think you know who I was."
"I knew who you were."
"And I like you too."
He squeezed my hand tighter. We got closer to our block.
"Hey," he said softy. "Wanna come over and watch some TV with me? Nobody's home."
A million things raced through my mind at once. I was supposed to be home by ten. It was already after eight. Maybe I could call my mom. Maybe I could say I was going out after the dance. Maybe....
"Hello?" he laughed. "You still there?"
I snapped back to the present.
"Sorry," I said meekly. "I just..."
My words trailed off. Our footsteps padded along the sidewalk.
"I mean, not really watch TV," he stated simply. "I mean, you know, just..."
He couldn't say it either. "Do stuff," he meant.
That's what we both were trying to imagine right now. "Do stuff."
And I had a pretty good imagination.
I wanted to. A lot. He was so beautiful. So nice. So full of whatever I thought could never be mine.
"Yeah," I answered quietly, knowing I'd be in trouble for coming home late but not even caring. "I think I want to come to your house. And, um, not watch TV."
He nodded knowingly.
"Please don't tell anyone," I added quickly.
He laughed out loud. A beautiful sound. Happy and full. Honest.
"Trust me," he said. "I do NOT talk about it."
We got to his house about ten minutes later. We walked through the door and he switched on some lights. The living room was unremarkable. Nothing bad, nothing good. Just an average home in an average town. Like mine.
"Go on up to my room," he said. "First door. I'll get us something to drink."
He nodded toward the stairs and I started walking up. I felt numb, like I was in a trance. Whatever was in store for me, I was more than eager. Nervous somebody might find out...but very, very ready. Boys like me dream about boys like him. It was real and it wasn't real. I wanted him more than anything. Wanted this. Needed this. Whatever the "this" might be. I didn't know. But I knew I wanted it.
I opened his door and turned on the light. I sat on the edge of the bed and looked around. The room was pretty much the same as everyone else's I'd ever seen. A few posters. A bookshelf. An iPod in a docking station on his desk. A laptop open and dark. Clothes on the floor. Twisted boxer briefs. Clean and white. I wanted to pick them up. Wanted to touch them to my face. Wanted to, I don't know. But I didn't. I blushed again, alone in his room, looking at his casually-discarded undies. Feeling strange. Feeling sexy. I cupped my hand in front of my own mouth. Breathed out. Smelled my own breath. It was okay. It was...
He entered the room with with two cans of Sprite. Closed the door behind him.
"Cheers," he smiled, handing one to me.
"Cheers," I repeated, drinking.
We sat on his bed for a few minutes, talking and getting to know each other.
He told me he'd always known he was gay. "Since birth," he grinned...and I wondered how that was possible.
I told him, nervously, that I never really knew until middle school, when watching guys in the shower at gym became my secret, guilty hobby.
He smiled at me and let me talk...spilling my soul in ways I never thought I'd be able to tell anyone. He was so beautiful. So perfect. So attentive and sweet.
I looked at the clock and sighed.
"I have to go home in an hour," I said.
He paused for a second.
"Dance with me," he said.
I stared into his eyes. I thought he was joking, but he was dead serious and sincere.
Without waiting for an answer, he turned on his iPod, fingered through the menu and put on something slow. He stood in the center of the room, waiting for me. Lit by a lamp and the light of the moon, he was beautiful. Impossibly, boyhood-beautiful.
I stood up, unsteadily as sweet, slow music, filled the room. Sinead O'Connor. An old song. Nothing Compares 2 U.
He turned off the light. The moon through the window cast a gentle blue shadow throughout the bedroom.
I walked over to him and he took me in his arms.
"Hi, Lukey," he said softly. "I'm glad you came over tonight."
We danced without saying anything. I felt so safe and natural, standing there, dancing with him. His arms were wrapped around me, and I wrapped mine around him. I could feel him breathing on my neck as we stood there pressed against each other. His heart was beating hard in his chest, pressed against mine. His hands reached up and stroked my hair. I didn't want it to end...it was so nice...so sweet. I wanted it to last forever...just standing there, swaying softly, filled with music and warmth and everything I'd never had before. Closeness. Completeness. Love.
He led me to the bed and we laid down next to each other, slowly. I wasn't scared at all. He held my face in his hands and kissed me softly. It was the most tender, beautiful, natural feeling in the world. We lay there side by side, melting in to each other, kissing sweetly.
Our hands moved to the music...touching, caressing each other, working their way slowly across warm, soft skin.
It's been seven hours and fifteen days... Since you took your love away from me...
His hand reached my groin first. I gasped quietly when he first touched me...his hand sending a shiver – an electric current – through my whole spine. I kissed him harder, wanting more.
We fumbled with our pants, urgent, helping each other undress. And then we lay there, naked from the waist down, kissing, touching...rubbing each other and moaning softly.
He stroked my dick and I stroked his. I was amazed at how naturally everything was coming to me. We needed no instruction and no words. We just laid there in heaven, exploring each other, feeling each others' hardness, enjoying every sweet, soft sensation of this first, incredible meeting.
He slowly, tenderly, kissing my body all the way down, shifted his body into yin and yang, up and down, sweet 69. I knew what was coming, and I was eager.
His warm mouth wrapped around the head of my penis. His soft hands caressed my back, squeezing and touching. His fingertips were like points of fire on my warm skin.
I took him into my mouth, too. He moaned. Pressed in.
We laid there, slowly sliding back and forth, pushing forward, feeling the warm, wet heat of our mouths.
His pubic hair was light and clean. I smelled soap and a light, musky, sweaty scent. Just enough to make me want more. I licked around the base of his dick, enjoying the flavor, breathing in the sweet, boyish aroma –pressing my nose up against his small patch of hair – inhaling deeply, hungry for the taste of his hardness. I wanted to please him. He played with my balls. Lightly fingered the area underneath. Not in my ass, but almost, so close...
Our hips bucked gently as we continued to suck each other. Almost in time to the music, we pushed ourselves in and out...our tempo building...
"Don't cum," he whispered, pulling off me.
"No," I whimpered. "Please don't stop."
I was so close. So close to cumming in his mouth. So close to tasting his...no...don't stop...
He came back up to me. Took my face in his hands. Kissed me. Such sweet, salty kisses. They tasted like dick. They taste like me.
I moaned softly as he kissed me with his tongue. His hand traced down. Touched my nipples. My belly. My straining dick. And lower. My balls. My ass. Oh God, my rosebud. My hole. His finger was wet with spit. He was touching my hole. Pushing into me. Kissing me. Me moaning. His gentle but insistent finger. Finger with purpose. With a target. Pushing into me with his sweet long, finger. Making me open up for him. Blooming me. Readying me.
"I want to love you, Lukey," he whispered between kisses.
Tears came out of my eyes. Happy tears he kissed and licked away.
"Let me put my love inside you," he whispered.
I looked in his eyes.
"Please," I whispered. Nothing else. Just, "please."
He pushed his finger inside me, deeper. I gasped. Electric.
He licked my neck. Sucked my skin. Whispered in my ear:
"I'm going to put my love in you, Lukey," he whispered, fingering me deeper. "Right here. Right in here. Do you want that?"
"Ohhhh," I whimpered. "Ohhhhh..."
"Tell me you want that," he whispered hotly.
"Yes," I moaned.
"You want that with my cock."
"Nnngh," I whimpered. "I want that with your cock."
He rolled me over on my side. Spooned me. I felt something cold for a second. Slippery. Lube. Where did he...
But there was no time to wonder.
He entered me from behind in a piercing, swift movement, so full and so gentle I gasped and saw stars.
"Ungggh," I grunted as his cock filled me up. So good. So big. So long...so hot and hard and eager to take me.
"Oh, Lukey," he whispered. "You feel so good. So tight. This is my love, Lukey. This is how I put my love in you."
"Nnnnn..." I cried. Really cried, with tears of contentment flowing freely down my face. Tickly and wet on my cheeks. I wiped them away. Crying. Needing this. He hugged me and pushed himself in and out, so gently, so completely. My whole world went from black and white to color in that moment. Nothing would ever be the same after this. Nothing.
It's been so lonely without you here... Like a bird without a song... Nothing can stop these lonely tears from falling... Tell me baby where did I go wrong... Nothing compares... Nothing compares 2 U...
Across the room, the music played as we made love. As he danced inside me, filling my entire being with his sweet, long, hard, aching music. It hurt. It felt good. It felt empty. It felt full. It felt everything. Everything. Sweet moonlight music. Soft dance. Sweet fuck. My mind was exploding with color. This was changing my forever. And I cried because it felt so good.
He quickened. His breath became raspy. I felt him push forward with an urgent thrust, shoving his hard dick deep into my open hole. I winced, but he didn't stop. His body shook, his hips tensed, he grasped me roughly. His sperm erupted inside me in hot, forceful pumps of his hip.
"Nngggh," he grunted. "My love, Lukey. Putting my...nnnngghh..putting my...love in you...fucking you...cumming in you...nnnnghhh..."
My ass clenched around him, grasping him. Milking him. Needing every sweet drop.
"Do it," I gasped. "Hard. Do it. Please! Unngh!"
The force...the action...the urgency of his thrust was so erotic to me – so much of a turn-on – there was nothing I could do but just lay there and let him fill me up. So full. So hard when he came in me.
He was breathing so hard.
"My love in you," he repeated softly, panting, gulping for air. "Had to...put my...love in you. So tight. So good."
He was silent. Held me. Kissed my neck. I was sweaty. I could smell us. Sexy. Sweet sex smell. I'd never smelled this before. Open smell, good smell. I wanted to cry again. We smelled good. I melted back. Let him hold me.
My dick was hard. So hard. Needed to cum.
"Please," I begged. "Please, I need it too."
He pulled out. Emptiness. Ache.
Rolled me on my stomach. Straddled my legs.
Went down on my cock.
Oh fuck. My cock in his mouth.
So hot around me cock.
My cock in his mouth.
And his finger, still reaching. Still — oh, fuck – back in my ass. Filled up again.
Sucking me. Finger-fucking my sore, cum-filled ass. Feeling so good. Feeling so full...
Fucking his face. Feeling his finger. Putting the love in...putting the love...
I shoved forward with passion – heard him gag – and I moaned out loud, blasting his throat with everything I had.
"Unnghhh," I cried out. "Cumming, cumming..."
My whole body was on fire, tingling. I stopped moving, almost gasping at the sensitivity – the flushing shiver – the involuntary jerk of my dick as my fluid filled his mouth. I heard him gulping and moaning, eager to swallow it all. Swallowing me. Pulling my ass to his face to swallow me deeper. His nose buried in my pubic hair. Inhaling me. Moaning. Swallowing me. His moans were a vibration that ran up and down my dick. Drove me crazy. Buzzed in my balls.
It was beautiful. It was perfect. It was something I'd needed to let out for so long. Let out in a boy. Let out in him.
After I'd stopped shooting, I felt him licking my head, wanting more, cleaning every last drop from where it came.
"Lukey" he whispered. "I wanted you so much."
Turning quickly, he came back up to lay side by side with me. He kissed me again and held me in his arms.
I could taste the saltiness of my own cum on his lips. His tongue licked me gently, sending me into a shiver that started at my lips and moved warmly across my whole body.
Sinead, endlessly repeating, sang to us again:
All the flowers that you planted, mama... In the backyard...
"Jared," I moaned, holding him. "Don't ever let me go."
He held me there, as the music continued to play. Crickets chirped from a distant window.
In all my life, I'd never know a sweeter dance. I didn't want to think of future, or school, or when we'd be together again. I just wanted this moment. This one right here. The moment I'd remember the rest of my life, Jared...when you and I danced. When youth still made everything in the world possible. That beautiful moment in time, Jared, when nothing compared to you.
I surrendered myself to the music and his touch, knowing that no matter where my world went from here...tonight, I had danced. That's all that mattered.
I finally danced.
And the music, like my childhood itself, was deep, safe, warm and right.
The dance was unforgettable.
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