Knots, Book 2

by Elias Scott

Chapter 9


I felt like I was suffocating as soon as I walked into Andy's room and he locked the door. Andy thought it was Gina, but it was more than that. I wanted get out of there and go home, but I couldn't tell him or myself why. I just needed to get out. But Andy didn't give me a chance; he had my shirt up and over my head as I only offered feeble resistance because I wanted to fuck as badly as he did. The unconvincing word rolled out of my mouth. "I've got to go."

He ignored me and soon had my pants down and my cock in his mouth. Shit, I thought. I want this, but I gotts to get out of here. I had no resistance to Andy's lips on my cock and then his tongue in my mouth. In no time I'd given up what little resistance I offered and grabbed his head and pulled his lips and tongue into me. Soon we were both naked and sucking each other and then flip-fucking.

But when it was over, I felt that same emptiness Andy talked about. At first I logged it up to the quiet after the storm of hot sex. It was that too, but the more we did it, the less meaningful it became. The quote from the movie, Bully, which was about a sixteen-year-old boy who loved to fuck virgins, kept going through my head. "When you're young, not much matters when you find something you care about and that's all you got. That's just it, fucking is what I love. Take that away from me, and I really got nothing." I didn't want my life to come to that. Believe me, I was tempted because I love sex and maybe fucking was what I loved. But there were other things I loved like being JV quarterback and sophomore class president and going out with Gina, and just being a teenager. Maybe it would have been different if I didn't have those things in my life and sex with my best friend was all I had. My classmates saw me as a guy who had it all together and someone who knew what he wanted out of life. Yet, at that moment, even after Andy and I had flip-fucked, the only thing I wanted was more sex. Andy had once told me or he wrote it here that it was never enough. You always hoped that it would be different the next time and you'd feel whole. But the more we did it, the less whole I felt and it scared me. I think in some ways, he felt the same way.

Andy had already tied a lot of those bad knots in his life, and while I loved the guy, and I didn't want his knots to become my knots.

I sat naked on the edge of Andy's bed for a few moments before he knelt behind me and began massaging my shoulders and kissing my back and neck. It felt so good. My willpower to leave was weak so I stayed there and enjoyed it while my mind was saying, get dressed and leave before you give in to Andy's charms and do it all over again. And believe me, I wanted to do it again. My dick started to get hard. Suddenly he stopped the massage, jumped off the bed, and knelt naked in front of me. He's so beautiful to look at that I wanted him again right then.

Andy's not one to give up easily. "Can't we be best friends with benefits?" he asked. That made me smile, and when I gave him a bad time about always having some angle, he said he was a dealmaker and something about making straight lines into angles.

I told him, "That's one of the things I love about you." I paused and put my finger to my chin as if I was in deep thought. "I guess we could be best friends with benefits." The one thing I knew for sure, was there wasn't any way I was going to quit having sex with Andy. But I told him I just couldn't have another week like we just had. It might have helped if I told him the things I've written here, but those things weren't in my mind at the time. They only became clearer when I got home, away from Andy, and I could breathe again.

I grabbed his upper arms, looked up and down his beautiful body, and felt my cock begin to rise.

He gave me a pleading look and acted like he was wiping a tear from his eye. "Can't we at least do it during school vacations?"

I wanted to say yes and no at the same time so said, "Let's take one day and one vacation at a time." He looked down at my hardening cock. He moved down and kissed the head. "I'd like a little more of this right now."

I heard words go off in my head, Matt, you got to get out of here before you suffocate. I said, "Sorry, Andy I gotta go."

I put my clothes on, hugged him and kissed him and blurted out, "See you at school on Monday." Writing this now, I can't help think what an ass I was. Not so much because I left, but the way I so casually said, "See you at school on Monday." It was like I didn't care about him, when it was just the opposite. I cared too much and it scared me. Every part of my body was again screaming for Andy's tongue and cock to do wild things to me. It was the feeling of wanting to stay and wanting to go at the same time that was killing me. So I gathered all my willpower and left.


I hated Matt for the way he walked out on me. "See you at school on Monday." What the fuck was that? I thought I had him again when I went down and kissed his cock, but he seemed repulsed and just wanted to get out of my room and my house.

The room was eerily quiet after he left. I longed to hear Matt's voice, to cuddle, kiss and feel our warm bodies together. But he was gone and the room felt cold. My cell phone sat on my desk and I thought I heard it say, "Call Matt." Of course it didn't, but I wanted to call him so badly. I wanted him back, even if it was for only one night. Expectations can hurt. It would have been different if his parents told him he had to go home, but the fact he chose to go home, wounded me.

I put on boxer briefs, fell back on my bed, and tried to sleep. It felt like a fever came over me as I rolled on my stomach and tossed and turned. Images of Dillon came to me and I saw us kissing and fucking and loving each other. I heard him say, "I love you, Andy." Then there were images of Thomas and Randy with their shirts off after basketball. Then I saw them naked. One was sucking my cock and the other was fucking me. I didn't realize it was a dream at first. So while I'm having unbelievable sex with these two, I look up and see Matt with his hands on his hips. A piece of rope is hanging from his hands. He shakes his head, tosses the rope in the air and it comes down in a huge knot. He says, "I'd like to see you try to untie this one."

I awakened in a sweat. I got up and checked my cell to see if Matt called and maybe I slept through it. But he didn't.

Things were unsettled. I paced back and forth, sat at my desk, turned on my computer, lay on the bed, got up and watched some porn, got dressed, got undressed, tried bed again, watched more porn and nothing filled the emptiness I felt. It was like the day I found out Dillon had been arrested and was having sex with Thomas and Randy. I remembered the cop trying to make sure I didn't kill myself. Matt's last words popped into my mind. "See you at school on Monday." Shit, I'd forgotten about Monday. I felt trapped and tied in a knot of my own making. Finally, I said fuck it, got dressed, and joined my parents in the living room where they were watching a football game. They smiled at me. My father turned the sound down on the TV. "Where's Matt?"

"He went home."

Mom gave me a questioning look. "It's not like him to leave without saying goodbye."

"I guess he was in a hurry. Said he had things to do."

My mom gave me a sad look. "Why don't you sit down and watch the game with us?"

Normally, I'd have passed, but this time I was happy to spend the next couple hours watching the game with them. Sometimes our parents are the only ones to save us from ourselves.


My parents were sitting in their recliners when I walked into the living room and surprised them. My dad glanced up from his book. "What's up, Matt? We thought you were going to stay at Andy's tonight."

"I was, but decided to come home."

My mom looked up from her knitting. "Did something happen?"

"No. I was just ready to come home. Got homesick and wanted to be with my parents."

They smiled. "Yeah, sure," my dad said. "Are you sure everything's all right?"

"Of course. Don't you believe my homesick story?"

My mom pressed on. "I thought maybe you and Andy might have had an argument over something. He didn't try to do anything with you, did he?"

I couldn't resist it. "What do you mean by 'do anything with me?'"

My mom blushed. "You know what I mean."

"No I don't. What do you mean?"

My dad grumbled. "For heaven sakes, Matt. She means, did he try to have sex with you?"

Maybe it was the comic relief I needed at the moment, so I carried on the charade. "Yes, he had this ten or eleven step seduction plan all written out. He started with the first step and went all the way to the end." Of course this story was true, but it had happened long before that past week.

My parent's faces whitened. "And?" my father asked.

"I stopped him at every step, blew up the air mattress, threw the sleeping bag over it, and climbed in fully clothed."

Smiles crossed their faces. My dad shook his head. "Nice try, Sport. That'll be the day when you climb into a sleeping bag with your clothes on."

"Well, maybe my shorts. Andy and I talk into the night sometimes. He doesn't sleep very well and wakes me up early just to talk."

My mom looked down at her knitting and then up. "I think Andy must be troubled after what he told us last night. It's going to be hard enough on Monday. Let's hope they don't find out he's gay or that he wasn't raped."

I sat on the sofa which was to the right of their recliners. "I don't think it will make any difference one way or the other. Homophobes will be on all four of us no matter what. We'll just have to take it."

Don't forget," my dad warned. "You're not to fight unless you give them fair warning. Principal Evans came up with a solid compromise and we don't want to see anyone suspended."

I scratched the space between my eyes. "We won't. But I can't help but think there's going to be a fight or two no matter what."

My dad lifted his book off his lap. "Maybe, but don't let it be you who starts it."

"I won't." I stood. "I need to take care of some things and call Andy."

"Miss him already?" my mom joked. "Tell him we love him."

It was good to be in my own room after a week at Andy's. I changed into sweats, sat at my desk and suddenly didn't know what to do with myself. I grabbed a book and started to read and all I could think of was Andy sitting in his room alone. A blank piece of paper and a pen rested on my desk. I'd planned to write an essay for my English class last week, but never got to it because Dillon was arrested and Andy fell to pieces. Tears welled in my eyes. I picked up the pen and started to write.

Who am I?
Your guess is as good as mine.
Confusion courses through my veins.
And love fills every pore.
All parts of my body scream
For my best friend
While my mind says,
Proceed with caution.
I ask myself,
Why can't life be simple?
It used to be.
What happened?

A tear dropped on the paper before I could wipe it away. "Why can't life be simple?" kept repeating itself in my mind. I wiped the tear from the paper, grabbed my phone, and called Andy.


Adrenalin shot through me when my cell phone rang. It was Matt.

"Hey, Buddy," he said. "Sorry about the way I left.

"Hold on a sec." I didn't want Matt or my folks to hear the excitement in my voice, so headed to my room and closed the door. "Me too. I miss you already."

"Same here. But it will be nice to get a good night's sleep for a change."

I laughed into the phone. "Who will I talk to when I wake up in the morning?"

"Guess you'll have to talk to yourself. Don't forget you can call me any time, but please try to call during normal hours. Three in the morning is for emergencies."

"Is a hard-on an emergency?"


"Can't blame a guy for trying."

Matt was quiet for a second or two before he said, "I just wrote a poem."

I muttered, "Football players don't write poems."

"This one does. Do you want to hear it?"

I wasn't sure I wanted to. He'd deserted me and I was afraid the poem would tell me why. "I'm not sure."

Matt cleared his throat. "All I can tell you is it made me cry."

"Shit, I know I don't want to hear it now."

"It's up to you. I can tell you this much, it begins with Who am I?"

Now he had me curious. I'm always asking myself that. "Okay, let's hear it."

He read it, and tears welled in my eyes because I felt some of those things. We'd talked about them together. "Matt, you're making me cry. Why the fuck are you there and not here?"

"Because my mind says, 'proceed with caution.'"

"How can I answer the call of your body parts if you're not here?"

I could hear him laugh. "Well, Andy, you won't be able to hear them and maybe you and I will finally get a good night's sleep."

I moaned. "I guess you're right. But my tongue and cock are aching for your body parts. Mine are screaming at you for leaving."

"Andy, this wasn't easy. But I think it's the right thing for now. Do you understand?"

"No. Well, kinda, but not really."

"Why don't you come over tomorrow and we'll just talk and shoot hoops?"

"Why don't you come here?" I asked. "We can play with each other."

"Sorry Andy. It'll have to wait. Are you coming over or not?"

"I'll be there. What time?"

"We go to church at ten. Come by at twelve-thirty. We'll have lunch and then head to the park. Why don't you call Thomas and Randy and see if they want to join us around two or so??

"Good idea. I'll have them swing by my place while you're at church. We can maybe warm up a little."

"Whatever, Andy. It's up to you."

"Damn, you're no fun."

"Again, I'm sorry for the way I left. See you tomorrow."

I wanted to beg him to stay on the phone a little longer, but didn't want to appear desperate, which of course I was.


I felt better after talking to Andy. I'm not sure what he thought about my poem, although he said it made him cry. He has a lot of the same feelings, but he "doesn't proceed with caution." I'd say that's the big difference between Andy and me. Well, most of the time. You'd have never known it by the way I acted that past week.

I asked him to come over my place to talk and shoot hoops. I figured there'd be no sex at my place. He didn't much like the idea, but agreed to it. He did say that he was going to invite Thomas and Randy over for a warm up and while I didn't believe him, I was able to say, "It's up to you."

The words surprised me because I do care what he does. But now that I've told him I'd love him unconditionally, I was able to let go. After all we're not married or in a committed relationship. I'm not sure he wants one because he's never mentioned it. I wondered what he would do if I had sex with Thomas and Randy first. I actually gave it some serious thought except for the fact "proceed with caution" kept traveling through my mind.

Our church is Christian conservative and it pisses me off every time we go. I only go to keep my parents happy. The minister loves preaching against all the sins of the flesh. It's not that I believe in adultery or sexual abuse, but what difference does it make if two guys or two girls have consensual sex? Why shouldn't people who love each other get married? Why can't people have sex for fun, at least until they're in a committed relationship? I wanted to stand up and ask him these questions. Instead, I sat there staring at my fingers, looking around the church, and closing my eyes every so often. Then there were the other questions I asked. Why isn't it sinful to go into some unnecessary war where a bunch of men and women get killed for no reason? Why is it okay for Congress to ignore the poor? Why is okay for the rich to get richer while everyone else gets poorer? Why is it okay for corporations to pay low wages when they're making millions? Why is it okay for those responsible for stealing billions in business to go unpunished? Why isn't the minister talking about these things? Those were the questions I asked when I sat there all pissed off.

My parents let the pastor know they don't always agree with him.

As usual, once we were in the car, I asked my parents, "Why don't we go to a different church? This guy lives in the dark ages. You're not like that."

I got the same answer every week. "Where will we go?"

I'd always groan. "I know this town is small, but there must be some place where the congregation and the pastor are more open minded."

My dad came back with his usual remark. "If you can find one, let us know, and we'll go there."

That was the end of the conversation.

The only reason I believe that God loves us unconditionally is because my parents told me God loves us no matter what. They practiced what they preached. There wasn't any way I was going to get that from going to our church. Because the God the pastor talked about hates us and get His jollies from punishing us. Hell, if anyone punishes us, we punish ourselves. You know that old saying. "We saw the enemy and the enemy was us."

Andy knocked on our door exactly at 12:30. He walked in like he owned the place, greeted my parents, and sat at the dining room table. "So what's for lunch?"

"I should hit you upside the head," I said. I knew he said that just to cover up the fact he was hurting inside.

He grinned. "Why, you said come over at 12:30 and we'll have lunch and talk."

"Right," I said.

Mom looked at the two of us. "Sandwiches, chips, and a drink are all you're getting."

"That's fine, Mom. We going to sit in the backyard and talk for awhile and then go to the park to shoot hoops with Thomas and Randy." I looked at Andy, "Are they coming?"

"No, they couldn't make it. They had other plans for the afternoon so came by my house just before I walked over. We played a little."

My mom gave him a confused look. "Played what?"

"Basketball, of course."

"Whatever." I said. "Sorry they couldn't make it."

Mom set our sandwiches and chips on a tray along with a can of Pepsi and sent us outside where we sat around the white round metal table.

"You got a copy of your poem? I want to read it."

I ran to my room, grabbed it off the desk and handed it to him.

"Is it okay if I read it out loud?"

"Of course, but keep your voice down."

He read through it slowly to himself and then read it out loud.

Who am I?
Your guess is as good as mine.
Confusion courses through my veins.
And love fills every pore.
All parts of my body scream
For my best friend
While my mind says,
Proceed with caution.
I ask myself,
Why can't life be simple?
It used to be.
What happened?

He paused for a moment after he finished. "I could have written this, except for the part that says, 'Proceed with caution.' In fact, I can hear your body parts calling to your best friend right now." He smiled. "But what gets to me is the part about 'why can't life be simple.' It used to be, Matt. But now everything's a mess, one huge knot."

I took the poem from him. "That's why I wanted to slow down and proceed with caution. We need to give ourselves time to sort things out and untie some of those knots."

He lowered his voice. "I'm always horny. What am I going to do about it?"

"There's always your hand."

"But it's not the same. Nothing can compare with sucking cock or having your cock sucked. Nothing compares to having a dick going in and out of yours or someone else's ass. And that's the answer to your last question. Life changes once you have sex. We're no longer the innocent boys we were when we rode our bikes out to the pond and swung on the rope naked. We lost our virginity."

I sighed. "Yeah, and we lost our innocence."

He leaned close across the table. "But, Matt, there's no going back."

I muttered. "That's what scares me. We have so much of our lives ahead of us. Do we really want to spend it fucking and sucking every time we get the urge till the day we die?"

He grinned and slapped his hand on the table. "I don't know about you, but I do."

I smiled. "I guess I do too, but there has to be more to life than that."

"Tell me what it is."

"There's school, and sports, dating, friendships, swimming at the pond, mowing lawns, movies, family and a lot of others."

He slouched back in his chair. "That's a nice list. All you have to do is add sex. It's just one more thing. It's like eating. You eat three times a day. Why not have sex at least once a day? Why isn't there a place in our lives for that too?"

I shook my head. "Shit, Andy, if I knew the answer to that, we wouldn't be sitting here talking about it. I wouldn't have written the poem, and we'd be at your house fucking."

He smiled. "Sounds good to me. Let's go."

I scratched my nose as I thought. "Is 3:00 AM the only time you're serious?" I paused. "I'll make you a deal. Let's hold off on the sex for this week and I promise we'll fuck our brains out on Friday night and Saturday. Can you live with that?"

He frowned and rolled his eyes. "I'll be like a man starving and dying of thirst in the desert, but it'll give me something to look forward to. Like they say, 'hope springs eternal.'" He paused. "Maybe Thomas and Randy will be willing to give me a little water and something to eat."

I shook my head. "Like I said before, 'It's your knot, not mine.'"

Chapter Quotes

I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." Maya Angelou

Christopher Robin said to Pooh, "Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. – A.A. Milne

Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a pain that gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart. I hate love. -- Neil Gaiman

Talk about this story on our forum

Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.

[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]

* Some browsers may require a right click instead