A Taste of America in London Chapter 1
This story is fiction. Any similarity to any persons living or dead is merely a coincidence. If you are not allowed by law to view this material, please do not do so. If you are under 18 years of age, please leave now. This is a love story between two consenting, yet under 18 year old people set in a secondary school. If that offends you, I apologise and ask that you do not read any further. Otherwise, enjoy.
AUTHORS NOTE:
This story is going to be a slow burner and, I hope, an ongoing series. The story is of discovery, relationships, coming out, and coping long-distance. There will be sex etc, but it's not the main focus of the story and so there won't be bonking every ten seconds. If that's what you?re looking for then maybe look elsewhere. The first few installments are going to be about setting the scene for you and introducing the first major characters so unimportant information may be brushed over to begin with only to be revisited later on in the story.
Otherwise I hope you enjoy and feed free to feedback, ask questions or suggest where you might like the story to go by emailing me at bailiescott@icloud.com
BEGINS:
The 6-week summer holiday seemed to have gone so quickly. The weather had been shit (so above average for the UK) but actually it had been a pretty good holiday and as well a going away with the family, I?d also had plenty of chill out time with my mates including my best mate Simeon.
I'm Craig by the way, Craig Chalker.
My alarm clock decided to open the gates of hell at the usual time of 7:00. It was the first time I'd had it set since we broke up from school in July and the shrill electronic continuous beep was driving straight through my skull.
"For fucks sake!!!",
I reached out and with my right arm attempted to throw the bastard thing across the room. Unfortunately I didn't throw it hard enough as being plugged into the wall still, it flew about 3 feet before swinging back to the floor next to my bed and continued its persistent wailing. Unable to ignore it any longer I shouted at it as I threw the duvet back, swung my feet to the floor and was up. Nobody would ever find me in the best of moods in the morning.
I usually sleep in just my boxer shorts, and last night having been no different to usual, I wondered if I should put some jogging bottoms on before walking across the landing to the bathroom, but a screaming bladder ruled out that idea, so with a piss hard on leading the way I swung open my bedroom door and caring little as to whether the coast was clear, stomped across the landing and straight into the bathroom.
It took a minute or so to tackle the boner enough to be able to actually have a piss, but task done I decided I might as well jump straight into the shower, before breakfast, as my sister, once awake, would dominate the bathroom for at least an hour. Shucking my boxers off and throwing them straight into the washing basket, I jumped into the shower.
Now, I've read of stories on Nifty to know that the morning shower is typically the time when the average gay American high school student decides to wank, imagining himself being sucked off by the team quarterback, sadly, to me this has never been the case. The morning shower, possibly because I?m barely awake is purely functional. I'm there to wash.
Fifteen minutes later having turned the shower off, stepped out the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist I unlocked the bathroom door and walked across the landing back to my bedroom, slamming the bedroom door behind me.
Drying myself off, I started with my hair, then worked down, face, shoulders, chest, back, bum, balls, dick, legs, feet. Deciding I was suitably dry enough to start to dress I walked over to my wardrobe and swung the door open revealing not only my god-awful school uniform but also a door length mirror. I started trying to style my still damp hair. I guess now is as good a time as any to describe what I look like:
I'm about 5ft 9, about 61kg. I have blondey/brown short-cropped hair, and a handsome face. It's not cute, it's not plain, it's charming my grandma says, and I?ve got green eyes. I'm not fat, I'm not thin, I'm not muscly. I have a very average body... It doesn't have much definition but that?s really from laziness. If I put a bit of work on weights, it wouldn?t take long to have a nice bod. I hate sports, team or individual, but I do like running. My ass and cock are both in proportion to the rest of my body, there's definitely no 12 inches hanging between my legs. I'm uncut and pack about 6.5 inches when hard, 4ish when soft and my balls don't hang between my knees either, their hang nicely quite close to my dick, thank you very much. My ass is pretty normal booking, I suppose if I had to describe it, I would say that it's a small ass, it's got a bit of curve to it but it's not the kind of bubble butt or defined ass that I see on the guys in the porn I watch. And my legs. Well my legs are my favourite part of my body. I have pretty muscly legs from running, with thick, hard thighs and toned calves.
Body hair wise, I?m not smooth all over, but not hairy either. I have a sparse coating of light downy hair on my legs and arms, very little hair on my chest (hey I am only 16) and a fair whack of blondey-brown hair surrounding my dick and balls. I wouldn?t call it a bush, just average. Everything else is smooth as a peach - no bum hair, no back hair and none of the ever popular 'treasure trail'.
Getting dressed, we have it easy in British schools. There's none of this having to choose a new outfit every day. The school I go to mandate that we wear black trousers, black socks, white shirt, blue tie and black shoes, and a black blazer. The only creativity we get is deciding what underwear we wear and to be honest that's not usually something I give much thought to. Hand in the drawer, whatever comes out first gets whacked on. The only specification I have with underwear is that it is tight jockeys or trunks. I fucking hate the baggy underwear people like my dad wear, where every few seconds it feels like your nuts are gonna fall out the leg.
I?d thrown on my trousers, shirt and shoes, and put my tie and blazer in my school bag. I walked down the two flights of stairs to the ground floor, where walking into the kitchen diner, I found my dad staring out the window drinking coffee, my mum in her dressing gown facing down into the newspaper laying in front of her doing a crossword and my younger sister sitting at the table eating toast with her iPod plugged in to her head at full volume. Looking up as I walked in my sister declared, "oh the fairy's finished getting ready", and stood up walking past me, flashing a sarcastic smile as she went. This might sound like she was being nasty, but actually me and Carlotta get on pretty well, well indifferently at least. We didn't have much to do with one another; she was typically just very sarcastic to me. Oh yeah, by the way, I'm probably gay - but she doesn't know that!
My mum and dad (Paula and Dave) met and started dating when they were 18. They got married when they were 21 and had me (Craig) a year later. Two years later my mum had another baby, a girl called Carlotta, who's just turned 13. My mum was never destined to be a housewife though. She went straight back to work after having both me and my sister; she?s a fertility doctor at the local hospital. My dads a pretty successful building contractor and owns his own company which specialised in building and renovating top end hotels around the world. Both my parents travel about for their work, rarely at the same time though. Both have done pretty well for themselves and we live in a 4 bedroomed 3 storey townhouse in Greenwich, SE London. Despite being like chalk and cheese my parents are very much into one another. So much so that they still de disgustingly embarrassing things like kissing in public.
Me... I'm controversial, although some would say a complete closet case. I think I fist noticed that I was possibly interested in guys when I was about 12. Of course I had no idea what being gay actually meant or entailed, but I did recognise that I enjoyed the company of guys a lot more than I did girls, especially that of my best mate Simeon, known as Sim. My parents have always been pretty liberal and didn?t set many rules for my sister or I. We both had laptops with internet access, and with that much freedom, I used the wonders of the World Wide Web to look up different boy celebrities that I thought I might fancy. As much as I enjoyed what I saw on the internet, I got to see it all in person with Sim. We were so close we were practically like brothers, and having been inseparable since we were about 4 (when we started primary school) we were 100% comfortable together. We shared bed, shared baths, changed in front of each other, went to the loo together etc etc. Sim had what I considered to be the most amazing body and the things I wanted to do to that dick?
Well I admired Sim so much that one day whilst we were play fighting on a trampoline in my back garden I managed to tackle him and lying on top of him chest to chest, both out of breath and panting, I decided to take advantage of the situation and so I planted a kiss directly on to his lips. At this point we were both about 13. he was a little shocked to say the least. He pushed me off of him and this coincided with him deciding that he needed to head home. A couple of days later when he came around to hang out again he asked me if I fancied boys. I felt really ashamed but had known Simeon my whole life, I was comfortable with him and he knew everything about me, so I told him the truth, that I did like boys. He was silent for a bit, nodded and then said "cool. Not my thing but I'm okay with it". It sounds blas‚ and yet that's exactly what happened. With that easy acceptance we were off playing football in the park and hanging around shopping centres as before, except now he would ask me what I thought of certain guys, when i asked him what he through of certain girls. I wasn't naive though. Simeon really was cool about it, he was happy to talk to me about it but was also the soul of discretion. He never broke my secret. By the time I was 14 I knew I needed to try and get over being gay and so started to try chatting up girls outside school. I ended up dating two in quick succession and whilst never got past holding hands with the first girl, the second girl Kirsty, I dated until school broke up this year and had gone all the way with her. I can't imagine it was the best I?d ever have, nor can I imagine she?d rate it in her top 100 moments in life, it probably lasted about 15 seconds and I remember it being very mucky with body fluids all over the joint, but as far as I was concerned I'd become a man... A man who had sex with women. For the whole of the last year at school though, having finally come out to one person in my life, I'd been crushing on boys around me and started to pay less attention to Kirsty. At the end of school on the last day of term she met me at the school gate and said that she thought we probably weren't very good together and she thought we should stop seeing each other. I was disappointed, which is where I think there was a problem. If I were straight surely I should be distraught rather than just disappointed.
As ?disappointed? and I was by Kirsty breaking up with me, it made me put a lot of my thoughts and feelings to the drawing board. A summer of thinking, some of it with Sim, most of it alone, I decided that whilst I couldn?t exactly come out at school, there is nothing to stop me accepting and at least privately embracing my sexuality, maybe I?d even find a boyfriend (not one at school though. I wasn?t going to come out, but I also wasn?t going to try to cover myself by having chatting up girls. Suffice to say this summer made me reflect on a lot of things and important decisions were made and I was excited to start the new school year as the new me.
This first day of term was the beginning of my new life, although I wonder then what I would have thought if I knew how things would shape out as much as they did.
So back to the kitchen on the first day of term. Mum was never much conversation in the morning, I think that's where I got my dislike of them from. When my dad?s deep in thought, it?s usually work related and usually not a good idea to interrupt his train of thought or he?d drag you into whatever he was thinking about by asking your opinion. I grabbed a slice of toast that had been left in the toaster (I love cold dry toast) and swinging my bag on to my shoulder and grabbing my blazer and tie I patted my dad on the shoulder and then leant down to kiss my mum on the cheek. Without looking up she apologised, "sorry sweetie, completely distracted, have a good day at school, I'll see you when you get home".
Then she looked up, smiled, grabbed my hand and pulled me down so she could kiss me on the cheek. As I said before, my parents are very liberal and they put a lot of trust in me and my sister; trust that we maintained with them and treasured in the allowances of behaviour we were given.
As I started to walk towards the hall and front door, I heard my dad shout out, "have a good first day back Craig, behave yourself",
I responded "don't I always??.
He grunted "that's my boy."
With that I opened the front door and started the walk to school on the first day of year 11 - my last year of secondary school and most importantly, what I would later realise to be the first day of the rest of my life.
NEXT INSTALMENT:
In the next installment, we?ll join Craig on his first day back at school, meet his friends, including the much discussed Sim, and along with them discover the changes at school that have far reaching effect on this bunch of friends.