Jeremy's Swimming Lessons
I was stunned from the realization that we had ended up alone together, naked, hard, with a bed.
My heart hammered in my chest. I looked at him. He looked so... scared. And worried. Red-faced, red ears, his lips so red they looked like he was wearing lipstick. He stood there, naked and hard, his hands working and moving awkwardly, going nowhere. I was sure that he wanted to cover his privates, but knew it was too late to bother to do so. He looked at me then away, over and over.
I wished I knew what to say! Or anything to say! My guts were cold and shaking, like my muscles, and my brain. I waited for him to say what he had to say, hoping it wasn't that he wanted to leave.
"Did you know this was going to... they they were going to... that..." He kept looking at me and then away. Again and again. And he looked so uncomfortable and scared. Then I saw that he was shaking from head to feet. Really shaking! "That we were going to end up... in a room? Like this?"
His expression didn't change at all. He kept looking around. When he looked at the bed, probably by accident, he looked away really quickly. He looked around the room until he seemed to stare at the coffee table. I looked there to see why. There was a Mary Jane cigarette and a lighter lying next to the ashtray.
"I could use it," I said, then grabbed it.
It was only after I straightened up that I realized I had just given him the same view of me that we'd just had of Carl as he'd opened up the couch into a bed. I whipped around to see Mitch looking at my butt, now my penis, then his face and eyes shot upward to meet my eyes. He looked completely terrified. I felt that way myself, but seeing him looking like that also made me mad at Chet, Howie, and Carl for causing it.
"Uh, how about it?" I asked, holding up the cigarette and lighter, hoping that it would help relax him. And me.
He nodded vigorously. I sat down on the bed, put the cigarette into my mouth, shook out the blanket, and covered myself with it from waist to knees. He sat down next to me and pulled part of the blanket over himself. I wished I hadn't done that, that we were still exposed next to each other. But I was also glad that I had.
I lit the thing and held the smoke as I handed it to him. We smoked the entire thing without saying a word. I tried to think of things to talk about, but sitting there naked, our laps covered by some of the blanket, there was only a very few things I could think about. How could I not think about those things when I had to look at his firm legs sticking out from under that blanket, and his flat tummy and smooth chest above it? I knew what was under that blanket. I'd seen it so often, in the locker room and showers, and then this evening. This evening I'd seen it in a new way - up close and totally hard.
His worried and scared expression on his completely handsome face kept reminding me that he was uncomfortable. And reminded me that I'd helped cause it.
We sat there in silence. I wanted to say something, anything, but I just didn't know what. I was scared. And worried. Like he looked. I knew that I couldn't blame Chet, Howie, and Carl alone. I felt like I had trapped him. I felt like a complete heel.
I wasn't even sure that I wanted it happen anymore. But my prick sure wanted it to happen! It was staying so hard! I was alone with Mitch! Naked! On a bed! Together! Oh, God!
I really wanted to have sex with him, but I wanted more than anything else to be his friend. I didn't want to make him uncomfortable or scared. Or hate me. Or be afraid of me. Or Chet or Howie or Carl.
And I really wanted to at least hold him. Just once. Just for a little bit.
But how can I? I thought, more afraid than I had felt for a long time. I was shaking all over. And my guts were churning in a bad way. I would have given up a nut right there and then if I just knew what to say so that we could leave that room as friends.
I ran all the talks with Chet and Howie over in my head. There'd been so much certainty that he was like us. Not certainty, but nearly so. He'd said things that made us think he was at least not a hater of homosexuals. He'd said things that made him seem like someone who might even be willing to experiment. I'd let hope grow.
I knew that right then, I could abandon all hopes, and tell him that I wasn't. That what had happened tonight didn't mean anything. That maybe Howie and Chet were, and maybe even Carl was, but I wasn't. That I didn't like him in that way, that I wasn't one of them, that I didn't hate Chet and Howie and Carl if they were. That I'd like him as a friend the same if he was. I could just tell him that we should get some sleep and play along with the three of them tomorrow, and it would all be over. That he could ignore me at school from now on if he wanted.
Or, I could tell him the truth, and see where it led. If he wanted to stop being friends, or if he would stay friends. If he would maybe let something happen, if I could start something that is, and if he might, just maybe, could be a queer too.
I forced myself to look at him. He looked scared and worried. And pale. And I saw him shaking. I felt myself shaking, too. My guts clenched even tighter. My mouth went dry. I couldn't breathe! I really couldn't! I had to force my lungs to draw in air.
I wanted to tell him, but it was so difficult! I needed to tell him. He deserved the truth. He was too special to lie to. And today had been all about seeing if he was a homosexual like us, or at least interested in trying some stuff if not.
Get some guts! I yelled at myself. I'm right here with Mitch! So close! I can't let him get away! I have to say I am. Even if nothing can happen, so long as he don't hate me. Damn it! I know he can't hate me if I am. He's been joking around and shit. He won't. And if he does, well... I'll worry about that if he does. He won't. Chet and Howie are almost sure he's okay with us being homosexuals. He really seems okay with the fact they are.
So say it! But say what?
Hey, Mitch, I'm a homosexual, and I'm really sure I'm in love with you. Will you have queer sex with me?
Mitch, are you okay with me being a homosexual? Because I want you. I need you.
Mitch... Chet, Howie, and Carl, they arranged for this so that we could find out if you're a homosexual, like us. Because I love you.
God! No way!
I saw a way to at least start talking about it. I swallowed with real difficulty, faced him, and exhaled. I tried not to shake so much.
"You know, Chet, Howie, and Carl, they're really nice guys."
"Yeah." he said, looking at his hands in his lap.
"Uh, you know... uh, they're... uh..." Just say it! You chicken! "Uh... they're... uh..."
"Yeah, I know. Queer."
I tried to gauge his reaction, but he kept facing down, and all I saw was his profile. The heavy blush didn't tell me much.
"I... uh, don't care. Do you?" I asked.
He swallowed so hard I saw it and heard it. Then he said, almost too softly to hear, "No."
That was almost too good to be true! I'd at last found out that he knew that they hadn't been totally joking around, and really were homosexuals! And he hadn't asked to be taken home, and had even stayed! And he'd even played strip poker, and watched that film! And had even stayed in the room with me when Carl had pulled out the bed and left us alone together. Naked. Hard.
I wanted to say more, but I didn't know what to say. Knowing that he knew about the guys seemed to make it even harder to figure out what to say to him now.
He kept looking at his hands in his lap, the blanket covering if he was still hard too.
"Are you... a queer?"
My guts went even colder. My prick vanished inside of me, dragging my balls in with them.
There it was. The dreaded question. From Mitch. And we were both naked under the blanket. After having played strip poker with three other guys. And been boned up, all of us. And watched a pornographic movie, all together, naked. Boned up in full view. How could I deny it?
I hoped and prayed that he didn't look at me, and have a horrified expression. It seemed the only possibility, even though I had seen how he had acted all day and evening as Chet, Howie, and Carl, and me, had said and did so many things. It all pointed at his not hating us, or what we were, and even hinted that he was interested, turned on, maybe even homosexual too.
But it was such a huge risk! I was about to try to tell someone, Mitch, that I was a queer. It was simply so difficult! So scary. So nearly impossible.
But I had to. If there was any chance that he was too, that we could be together, that I could have someone so wonderful as Mitch, then I just fucking had to do it!
He started sobbing. I felt my eyes grow instantly wet in response.
He can't cry! No way! Mitch is far too awesome to ever be allowed to feel bad enough to cry!
I had to stop it, somehow, some way. I threw my arm over his bare shoulder. He fell against me, shocking me entirely. Then he sobbed and put his hands over his face and shook all over.
"Oh, Mitch! Don't!"
"I... I... I can't help it!" he said around deep sobs, his body trembling heavily.
"Why? Is it because they're..."
He pushed me away harshly. He sat back and wiped at his eyes and sniffled, trying to stop the tears. I felt so awful! I needed to hold him!
"No!" he nearly screamed.
"Then what is it, Mitch? Please tell me!"
"I am!" he actually shouted.
He's trying to tell me? What? I wondered. What's so horrible that it makes him cry like this? Is it that he's afraid of us? No! Let it be almost anything but that!
He leaned forward over his lap and put his face back in his hands. He sobbed and cried. I couldn't stand it. I grabbed him with both arms and jerked him to me, and wrapped my arms around him so tightly that he couldn't get out. Not unless he pulled one of his wrestling moves.
I couldn't stand thinking of him not wanting to be friends any longer. He was everything to me. I loved him in a way I had never felt before. I ached to be with him, but not if it made him hate me.
"I'm a queer!" he sobbed.
Everything stopped. In that moment, I saw myself from outside and above, looking down as I held him in my arms. I saw him shaking and sobbing, and I saw myself looking as if I'd just seen an angel rise from a grave and fly heavenward. Then I was swept back into myself in a rush. I could hear the sound of the air escaping my lungs and my blood rushing through my neck and head. And I felt his body against mine as it shook with his sobs.
That was my only thought.
It echoed in my brain, over and over. With each reverberation, it grew louder and clearer, and each time it sent a larger thrill through all through me.
But, why is he crying?
Then I remembered myself standing on a street corner, my bike at my feet, Chet's car behind him as he held me in his arms and told me that it wasn't anything bad, that I was fine, that he was, that Howie was, that others were, that I wasn't alone, that I would be fine.
"Mitch..." I waited until he looked up at me. "I'm one, too. I'm a queer."
His frightened and lonesome expression waned, part of it replaced by an almost yearning one.
"Mitch. Don't be sad about it. Please don't."
I held onto him even tighter.
"How can I not be?" he sobbed.
I knew what he meant. I'd stood on a street corner, crying in broad daylight, as Chet had held me while I came to grips with it. I wanted more than anything to be there for Mitch right then. I simply had to be. Nothing else mattered. I thought of that day two weeks ago, and remembered the things that Chet had told me.
"It's okay. It will be. You're not alone. You know that now. Chet and Howie and Carl will help any way they can. And I'll do anything to help you out. Absolutely anything."
"But I'm a queer!" he nearly wailed.
"So is Chet. Howie. Carl. And so are others. And... so am I. You're not alone. You never have to be. We'll all help you out, give you advice, be your friends."
"What about my other friends? At school?"
"They don't have to know. They like you. They like who you are. Just be the guy they know. You can be the guy we know with Chet and Howie and Carl and me. And the others."
"What about my folks!"
He sobbed even heavier.
"They don't have to know. Not until you move out and live on your own. Not even then if you don't want. That's up to you. They'll love you anyway."
He shook in my arms. I held him as tightly as I could. I cried into his hair. I tried to be strong for him.
He cried for quite a few minutes before he calmed down and looked up at me again. He wasn't nearly as cute as usual, not with red-rimmed, moist eyes and that awful expression.
"I just... I don't know what to do!"
"Neither did I. Chet said to just go on like nothing's changed. Be friends with your friends, and live your life."
He looked so lost. Alone. Scared. Needing.
"It'll be okay. I learned it can be okay. We're not monsters. We won't grow up to hurt or kidnap kids. We won't be bad people."
"No. Maybe some homosexuals are bad people, but so are a lot of heterosexuals. More, really, if you think about it. People are people. If they like guys or girls, they'll do good things or bad things, depending on what kind of person they are. Not on if they like guys or girls."
He seemed to think it over, and seemed to be less frightened and upset. And he looked so much better.
I loosened my grip of him and pushed his hair back with my fingers. He shivered once, in that post-tears way. He sniffled and wiped his eyes a last time.
"I'm such a girl," he said, sounding angry.
"No, you're such a guy. And such a guy." I remembered something Chet had said to me on that street corner. "It'd be so sad to waste you on girls."
He laughed, which I was so very glad to see! We looked at each other, into each others eyes. His hand touched my arm and slid up to my shoulder. That sent raging tingles all around my body.
He was touching me!
His fingers lightly ran along my shoulder to my neck, then along in front to the middle of my chest, then down to the center between my nipples. He watched it as it moved across my skin, sending those raging tingles into overdrive.
"Jer? I've... ever since the first few day of school, when I really thought you were, you know... looking at me-"
"I was!" I said suddenly. "Mitch, I really was!"
He laughed, and looked back into my eyes. I loved it.
"You..." He sighed really deeply. "The first day of school, when I walked into homeroom..." He sighed again. "When I saw you... I saw how you looked at me."
He looked so scared! And he was shaking so hard! And at his words, I did too! Like mad! My jaw slammed my teeth together several times.
"I saw... I saw how... you looked at me."
I was humiliated again.
"I knew... no, I didn't know. I wished. I fucking wished. I hoped."
"Every day, I saw. I thought I only wanted to see it. But, then Howie... and when we wrestled in front of you, and he... he pretty much put his hand up my shorts... Then yesterday we wrestled some more, and he, uh... he, um... he put his hand... um..." He looked at me. He smiled a little bit. "I was sort of sure he was. I was sort of sure he was, like, coming on to me." He looked at me again, and I wished I knew what to say. "Then... tonight!"
He looked away, back down at the floor or the bed or somewhere.
"Ever since then, and I let myself wish..." He sighed and looked back into my eyes. He smiled a little more. "I've always wanted to..." I could tell that he was trying to force himself to say something, so I waited. "I've, always, just once, wanted... to... to kiss you."
The muscles inside my guts wrenched so powerfully that I jerked all over.
"Does that make you think I'm... that-"
"It makes me think about kissing you," I said, and snickered.
"Oh, yeah. Mitch. I really was looking. At school. I mean, even that first day! You walked in looking so... just so... perfect!"
He laughed, and finally started looking like the Mitch I loved again. His eyes sparkled again.
"Every day, I tried not to look, or get caught looking, but I couldn't stop it!"
He laughed again, and looked even more like the Mitch I loved.
"And in gym! Oh, God!"
We laughed, and he sort of cuddled up to me and hugged me back with his head against my shoulder.
"I couldn't stop thinking about you after I saw you in gym. Even before we started changing or showering," he said softly.
"Me either. And when I finally got to see you... out of your clothes."
"Oh, gosh! Me too! You were so beautiful!"
"No way! You were!"
He laughed, and snuggled up to me even tighter. It was awesome! So warm and soft, and just... Oh, God! Entirely new kinds of tingles raged all through me. They were similar to the ones during sex and such, but were warmer and softer and fuzzy, and even more wonderful.
My guts swirled again. So powerfully that I almost flinched again. My voice shook as I said, "I want to."
He raised his head and looked at me. He was just inches away! And he was shivering in my arms. And he leaned closer, looking into my eyes, until he closed them. I closed mine at the last moment, and our lips touched.
There just aren't any words for it. I saw why some people say they heard or felt fireworks going off, but that isn't even close! It was like an earthquake inside of me. And a hurricane. And a tornado. And landslides and fires and floods. And cowboys chasing indians, and cops chasing robbers, and entire legions of soldiers in raging combat. Cannons fired, tanks rolled, buildings exploded into flames as bombs rained down on them from the planes roaring overhead.
And flowers bloomed under a warm spring sun. And a gentle rain fell on a lazy creek. And waves gently lapped at a sandy beach. And birds chirped their songs into a warm breeze.
And I fell entirely in love with Mitch as he melted against me and I melted against him, our lips melded together, our breaths mixing.
It lasted for a split second, and for a thousand hours.
And when it was over, and our lips separated, and our eyes opened, he was smiling a smile that melted what remained of my heart. And he hugged me tighter, and snuggled tightly against me, and returned his lips to mine.
And I felt him shaking again. But I could tell that this time he wasn't so scared and horrified. He squeezed me tighter, and I tightened my arms around him. It was so warm and cozy and comfortable. So wonderful. So... perfect.
I cried, silently, and not from fear or grief, or horror or pain, but from sheer joy and simple relief. No whines, no gut-wrenching sobs. Just quiet tears that ran down my cheeks and past my smiling lips.
We sat there for so long in silence that I wondered if he had fallen asleep. But then he stirred. He pulled away just a little bit, then smiled at me. He sat up straighter, meeting me eye to eye. He smiled so nicely. I was so warm! All over, inside and out. And I could have just screamed out in pure bliss.
He suddenly yawned. I recognized the sleepy effect of coming down from the Mary Jane in myself. I glanced at the clock and saw it was almost three in the morning. I knew I couldn't fight it, and I knew he couldn't either. We could try, and I wanted to. I wanted to talk with him all night. I wanted to spend the next hours having glorious sex with him. I wanted to touch him, feel him, smell him, taste him, be with him. All night long. But I could barely keep my eyes open. I knew from his sleepy expression and with what he had just been through, that he was probably both mentally and physically worn out as much as I was.
"I'm so tired," he said. "I want to stay awake all night, with you, but... I feel like I've been awake for days. So fucking tired."
"Come on, Mitch. Let's get some sleep."
We slid up the bed, pulling the blanket with us. We put the pillows close together and faced each other, moved closer together under the blanket, and held hands. We looked at each other, grinning.
I'd never felt so warm and cozy. Not even with Howie on one side of me and Chet on the other, exhausted from repeated sex, drifting to sleep together. This was far better, even though no sex was involved. It was Mitch, and I'd trade an entire weekend of sex with Howie and Chet for one hour alone with Mitch, just doing this.
We kept snuggling closer together, until we couldn't be any closer. Our bodies touched from toes to chest. Our arms were around each other. Our eyes stayed locked together. We kissed, snickering and giggling.
Our breaths grew slower, our eyes grew heavier, were open less, until they remained closed.
But in every way that mattered, our eyes were wide open.
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