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Chapter 1 -
The sky was already a brilliant shade of blue, and the Texan sun cast its scorching heat as I made my way to class. My name is Scott Thompson, and I recently turned 18 last week. I attend Oakwood High School, where I'm just an ordinary, unremarkable student. However, my classmates seem to only remember one thing about me--I'm gay. While being homosexual isn't illegal, in our small Texan town, it is far from being embraced. My classmates take every opportunity to remind me of this fact. As you can imagine, I don't have any friends. Not that I need any, really. I simply go to class and try my best to blend into the background, hoping that everyone forgets I exist. Most of the time, it works. No one pays me any attention. But on certain days, those hurtful jokes and name-calling are thrown my way by the jocks, accompanied by the occasional push. What can I do? I'm just a scrawny kid compared to them.
Physically, I'm 5'11" with dirty blond hair, cut short. There are a smattering of freckles on my face, and my light brown eyes lack any distinctive feature. I have a somewhat nondescript appearance--neither overly feminine nor particularly masculine. There's really nothing remarkable about my looks. I'm not exactly skinny, but I don't possess much muscle either. The only sport I engage in is running, which comes in handy when I need to escape from unwanted attention. It also gives me a lean figure, making me appear taller than I actually am. In terms of physical attributes, I'm average at best. However, academically, I excel. Since I lack any social connections, I spend my time studying and working diligently. Besides, good grades are a necessity if I want to secure a scholarship for college.
I live with my father, who works as a sheriff's deputy. It's just the two of us, and I need that scholarship to afford college expenses. Drawing is my only source of solace and self-expression. Although I can't claim any exceptional talent, I find solace in my drawing notebook, which I carry with me everywhere. It's a way for me to capture the beauty I find in the world--or at least attempt to do so.
Such is the nature of my lonely, uneventful high school life. It's not so terrible, I suppose. I merely wait for time to pass, counting down the days until graduation.
The swirling rumors don't exactly help me blend into the background. I never quite understood how the news of my sexuality spread throughout the school. I've always been discreet, never explicitly sharing my truth with anyone. Yet, it seems that even my attempts at anonymity have failed. Perhaps there was a slip-up, a moment of vulnerability that was misconstrued. Regardless, the whispers and sideways glances persist, reminding me that I'm different.
But there's more to my story than just a rumor. I had an encounter with a member of the baseball's team: James. A very tall, and very handsome senior in my school. Maybe he caught me staring at him, maybe he could just tell by looking at me? I don't know how, but he knew I was gay, even though I wasn't even sure myself. Well, he made me sure. It started out slow, he would seek me out after school and it didn't take long for him to convince me to go home with him, where we woud explore our bodies. At first, we would simply wank the each other off, but quickly enough he had me on my knees sucking his cock. Not that I minded, I enjoyed sucking his cock so any time he'd call, I would gladly go and relieve him, he would either call over my face or in my mouth, I didn't really like when he came in my mouth. Not that he'd cared, I would just go spit out in the sink of his bathroom. Anyway, it continued like this for a few weeks, I blew him maybe a dozen times before the rumor began. At first, I thought that rumour was a good thing, I told James we could be out at school, thinking back now I was stupid. He never showed any interest in me, at school he ignored me and he was just nice to me outside when he needed me. But he was my first, so I was infatuated with him and I thought he liked me. Needless to say, I was deadly wrong. When I suggested we should be a couple he laughed at my face, saying he would never be seen with a fag like me and that I was only good at sucking his cock. I was devastated, and heartbroken, I just left crying. He was actually dating one of the popular girl at school, but she wouldn't go down on him so that's why he needed me, he knew I was just a little fag in needs of a cock so he provided one for me and I should be grateful to him because I wouldn't be able to get one better. And that's why, now, I harbor a profound hatred for any member of the baseball team. I thought that after the summer holidays, starting our senior year, people would forget about that rumor, but they didn't. James made sure of that; he got his buddies to make my life difficult.
Speaking of the baseball team, they're the undisputed kings of our school. As the main sport, they have a certain status that's hard to ignore. The athletes who grace that field hold a kind of popularity that others can only dream of. And this year, there was a new transfer student who joined the team as their star pitcher: Colt. He has single-handedly led them to numerous victories, solidifying his position as a favorite among the student body. With his exceptional skills and magnetic charm, Colt has become a symbol of admiration and success. Despite my hatred for the baseball team, I found it difficult to ignore him. He was the embodiment of perfection in my eyes.
Colt had light brown hair and deep blue-sky colored eyes that were captivating to behold. His strong, squared jaw was adorned with a slight stubble of beard, adding to his manly appeal and making him seem older than the rest of us. Standing tall at probably 6'1", his tight-fitting clothes showcased an athletic physique that was worthy of a star player. He possessed strong, bulging biceps that allowed him to pitch balls at an incredible speed, and his broad shoulders provided the support needed for his powerful throws. I swear you could see his sculpted abs through the fabric of his shirt. He was handsome, sexy, and every other adjective that could define beauty. With his good looks and exceptional performance on the team, he had captured the hearts of not only students but also the school staff and even parents, as he was responsible for several victories of the baseball team. He was never alone, always surrounded by his teammates or adoring girls.
In an attempt to avoid any further fuel to the fire of the rumor about my sexuality, I had been intentionally averting my gaze from any male students, especially the jocks. However, I couldn't help but be drawn to Colt. Whenever he entered my field of view, my eyes would fixate on him, unable to look away. On a couple of occasions, he caught me staring, and instead of being bothered, he would meet my gaze with a wide smile, revealing perfect white teeth that only enhanced his handsomeness. His confidence was evident; he knew he was attractive, and he knew that everyone desired either him or to be him. Whenever our eyes locked, panic would seize me, and I would hastily retreat, fearing the repercussions of being caught staring at him. Yet, my mind couldn't help but conjure up dreams and fantasies featuring him. It seemed that all I could draw these days were sketches of him, almost filling an entire notebook. If anyone were to stumble upon it, they might mistake me for an obsessed stalker fixated on the star player.
I need to regain control of myself. I've never even spoken a word to him, and yet I feel as if I'm already falling in love with him. But I can't allow myself to do so. I must remind myself that he is just one of those assholes from the baseball team, another potential tormentor who could make my life a living hell. I have to avoid him completely.
**
There is a small park between my house and the school, usually frequented by families with their kids or people walking their dogs. It has a playground for children and a small forest. In that forest, hidden by vegetation, there is a table with a bench. I don't think anyone remembers it's there. That's why it's perfect. This place has become my secret refuge, where I can be alone and find peace amidst the quietness. It's my own little heaven in the middle of hell.
On a Tuesday afternoon, after a typical day at school, I make my way to this hidden sanctuary. The classes were uneventful, as usual. I prefer to sit quietly, take notes, and leave without drawing any attention to myself. But when I sit on the bench in the forest, a sense of relief washes over me. The stress and anxiety that constantly accompany me seem to dissipate here. Since I don't have much homework, I take out my notebook and start sketching. The scene before me is particularly captivating today--the way the sunlight filters through the leaves, casting a gentle glow and subtly altering the colors of the foliage. I'm so engrossed in my drawing that a deep voice startles me from behind.
"Nice drawing," says the deep voice.
Startled, I turn around to find the source of the voice, and there he is. The object of my fantasies, the Oakwood High School heartthrob--Colt. He's sweating, with one earbud still in his ear and the other held in his hand. He's wearing a black tank top that showcases his powerful arms and black shorts that struggle to contain his muscular thighs. He must have been jogging before stumbling upon my secret place. Even in his sweaty and out-of-breath state, he looks incredibly attractive. My mouth goes dry, I start to sweat, and my heart races. I'm both thrilled to be near him and terrified to be alone with him, with no one around to help me. I've been staring at him for what feels like an eternity, and he hasn't even looked at me. His gaze is fixated on my drawing.
"Th-Thanks," I mumble.
I'm ready to run away, but he takes it as an invitation to sit down. He sits on the bench next to me, almost touching me. I can't take my eyes off him. I want to flee, but at the same time, I yearn to be even closer.
"It's really beautiful here, so peaceful," he remarks, looking around at our surroundings. His voice is deep and sensual, and being this close to him feels like he's whispering in my ear, sending shivers down my spine. Get it together, Scott, unless you want to find yourself on the wrong end of a beating. "You're Scott, right?" he asks.
"Ye-Yeah," I manage to say, stumbling over my words.
"I'm Colt. We go to the same high school," he adds.
"Yeah, I know," I reply quickly. If he knows who I am, even though we've never spoken, it's probably because he's heard the rumors about me. I need to get out of here fast.
"So, do you come here often, Scott?" he asks, turning his gaze towards me. His bright blue eyes meet mine, and I'm lost in their beauty.
"Yeah, I come here after school. It's quiet and peaceful," I respond after an uncomfortable silence.
"I can see why. It's really nice. No one around, just peace and quiet without any disturbances," he says, maintaining eye contact. He has a smile on his face, and he speaks with such confidence that I lose all reason. I want to stay here and listen to him talk forever, even if it means enduring insults and mockery.
Breaking our eye contact, I watch a droplet of sweat trace its way across his perfect face. He notices my gaze and shifts on the bench.
"Oh, sorry! I was jogging, so I must be all stinky and gross. I shouldn't be this close to you," he apologizes.
"No, it's fine!" I almost shout before he has a chance to move. Oh fuck, now he knows I'm not just gay, but also a pervert who likes him all sweaty. I expect him to hit me any minute now, but he just laughs--a deep, hearty laugh that makes me melt.
"Good then," he says with a big smile. "But I should probably get going. You're very talented, Scott. That's a nice drawing. I hope you'll show me more soon. I'll see you around."
He gets up and flashes one last smile before disappearing into the wilderness. I'm still sitting there, motionless since he left, my eyes fixed on the spot where he stood just moments ago. I can't believe I just talked to Colt, the god among men. And he was nice too.Does he really want to see more of my drawings? Could he possibly want to be my friend? I take a deep breath, trying to regain my composure. No, he couldn't possibly want to be my friend. I've been burned before, and I can't let myself get hurt again. He's probably just looking to use me or mock me, just like James did. I need to be more cautious, more guarded. But when he's around, I find myself completely entranced, just like everyone else, I suppose.
**
The stadium was buzzing with excitement as I found my seat among the sea of cheering fans. It was a Saturday evening, and the atmosphere was charged with anticipation. The smell of freshly cut grass mixed with the aroma of concession stand delights, and the sound of chatter and laughter filled the air.
I took a moment to absorb the scene before me. The stadium was alive with energy, flags waving, and the crowd decked out in team colors. The vibrant display of support for the home team was infectious, even if I didn't fully understand the intricacies of baseball.
As the players took their positions on the field, my eyes searched for Colt among them. It didn't take long to spot him, standing tall on the pitcher's mound. The sight of him, the embodiment of strength and confidence, sent a thrill through me.
The first pitch was thrown, and the game was underway. The crack of the bat against the ball echoed through the stadium, and the crowd erupted in cheers and applause. I watched in awe as Colt effortlessly hurled the ball towards the batter, his movements precise and powerful.
With each pitch, Colt commanded the field. His focus was unwavering, his determination palpable. It was as if the entire game revolved around him, his presence filling the air with an undeniable intensity.
As the innings progressed, Colt's skills became more apparent. His pitches were a force to be reckoned with, leaving batters swinging in vain. The way he effortlessly struck out opponents with precision and finesse was a sight to behold.
And then, the pivotal moment arrived. The game was on the line, and it was Colt's turn to bat. With a steely determination, he stepped up to the plate. The crowd held its breath, their hopes and dreams resting on his shoulders.
With a swift swing, Colt connected with the ball, sending it soaring through the air. The stadium erupted into a frenzy of cheers as the ball sailed over the outfield fence, a home run. The crowd roared, chanting Colt's name in a thunderous chorus of admiration and celebration.
In that moment, I felt a surge of pride and joy. I may not have understood the technicalities of the game, but I understood the passion and skill that Colt possessed. I was witnessing something extraordinary, a display of talent that left me in awe.
As the game drew to a close, Colt's team emerged victorious. The celebration continued long after the final pitch, with fans cheering, high-fiving, and reveling in the triumph. And amidst the jubilation, I couldn't help but smile. I may not have known much about baseball, but I knew that Colt's performance had played a crucial role in the team's victory.
Leaving the stadium that night, I carried with me a newfound appreciation for the game and a deeper admiration for Colt. His talent on the field had left an indelible mark on me, and I couldn't wait to see what other feats he would accomplish, both on and off the baseball diamond.
The next day, in the early afternoon, I found myself back in my secret haven, seeking solace and tranquility. With pencil in hand, I immersed myself in capturing the essence of the stadium, focusing on Colt pitching. I hoped to lose myself in the art and forget about the complexities of the world. However, my peaceful Sunday was about to be disrupted.
As I continued to sketch, I heard a rustling among the branches, indicating that Colt was approaching. I swiftly switched to a different page in my sketchbook, revealing a landscape drawing, wanting to keep my previous artwork hidden from his sight.
"I had a feeling I would find you here," Colt's deep voice resonated, sending a shiver down my spine. I turned around, ready to respond, but I found myself breathless at the sight before me. He stood there, shirtless, his hands confidently resting on his hips. My eyes couldn't help but wander, tracing the contours of his well-defined pecs, glistening with a light sheen of sweat. Each ab of his sculpted six-pack was sharply defined, tempting me to trace their lines with my fingers. And then there was his dark treasure trail, leading from his belly button, teasing my imagination with its alluring path towards the top of his shorts. It completed the intoxicating image of his incredibly sexy physique.
Caught in the act of admiring him, I felt a rush of panic and quickly averted my gaze to his face, hoping he hadn't noticed my intense scrutiny. To my surprise, his eyes met mine, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. I braced myself for a mocking remark or an awkward exchange, but he remained silent. He simply sat down next to me, his presence emanating a warmth that seemed even more intense without the barrier of his shirt.
I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and apprehension as he settled down beside me. I tried to focus on my drawing, hoping to distract myself from the fluttering in my chest.
Colt's eyes fell upon my sketch, and he leaned in closer to get a better look. "Another masterpiece, Scott. You have an incredible talent."
I blushed at his compliment, my gaze darting between him and the drawing. "Thanks, Colt. I... I appreciate it."
His eyes sparkled with genuine interest as he continued, "By the way, I saw you at the baseball game yesterday."
My heart skipped a beat, and I quickly dismissed his observation. "Oh, no, that couldn't be me. There were so many people there. I doubt you saw me."
Colt chuckled softly, leaning in slightly. "Scott, trust me, it was impossible not to notice you. You have a way of standing out in a crowd."
His words caught me off guard, and I felt a warmth spreading through my cheeks. I wasn't used to someone paying so much attention to me, especially not someone as popular and captivating as Colt.
Curiosity getting the better of me, I decided to engage in conversation. "So, how was the game? I mean, you played amazingly. The way you pitched, it was... impressive."
Colt's smile widened, and he seemed genuinely pleased by my comment. "Thanks, Scott. I'm glad you thought so. It means a lot coming from someone who doesn't seem particularly into baseball."
I nodded, feeling a bit sheepish. "Yeah, I've never really been a fan. But seeing you play, it was different. You make it exciting."
Colt's eyes softened, his gaze lingering on mine. "You know what's cool, though? Finding someone like you, someone who doesn't worship me just because I'm good at baseball."
His words caught me off guard, and I struggled to find a response. Was he hinting at something? Did he really see something special in me?
The moment hung in the air, and I could sense there was something more we needed to talk about. It was then that Colt shifted the topic, a subtle transition that sent my heart racing.
"You know, Scott, after the game, I saw some young couples sneaking kisses under the bleachers," Colt began, his voice slightly softer. "It made me think about my first kiss, how it didn't go quite as planned."
My curiosity was piqued, and I found myself leaning in closer, captivated by his words. "Really? What happened?"
Colt chuckled, his gaze shifting to the ground for a moment before meeting mine again. "Let's just say it involved braces and a lot of awkwardness. But what about you, Scott? How was your first kiss?"
A blush crept onto my cheeks, and I averted my gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Um... no, actually. I... I've never been kissed."
I looked down at the table, prepared for the possibility of ridicule and laughter. But to my surprise, no such response came. Instead, I felt a gentle hand on my left cheek, guiding my gaze towards Colt. His expression was serious, and his deep-blue eyes seemed to peer into the depths of my soul. There was a comforting warmth in his gaze that immediately put me at ease.
Without a word, he closed the distance between us, his lips meeting mine. Instinctively, I closed my eyes, allowing myself to get lost in the moment. I stood there, my body still, as he deepened the kiss, gently parting my lips with his own. His tongue caressed mine in a sensual and slow dance, while his other hand found its way behind my neck, pulling me closer to him. The intensity of the kiss made my head spin, and I melted into his embrace, trying my best to reciprocate his affection.
As the kiss continued, I felt a gentle poke against my lips, a silent invitation. Without hesitation, I parted my lips, allowing his tongue to explore the depths of my mouth. The taste and touch of him overwhelmed my senses, and I found myself yearning for more. My own tongue followed his lead, dancing in sync with his, as our connection grew stronger.
I couldn't help but lose myself in the sensations. His lips were soft yet slightly rough, and the subtle prickle of his beard added a layer of texture and intimacy to the experience. It was an intoxicating blend of tenderness and desire that I had never experienced before.
When our need for air became undeniable, he slowly withdrew his tongue and mouth from mine, but not before leaving a gentle bite on my lower lip. It sent a jolt of desire through my body, and I couldn't help but graze his lip with my teeth in response. It was a silent plea for more, an unspoken desire that hung in the air between us.
Reluctantly, his hands released their grip on me, and as I opened my eyes, I was met with a tender smile on his face. It was a smile filled with affection and understanding, a smile that made my heart flutter. His eyes briefly flickered to the ground, and I followed his gaze, realizing that my hand had unconsciously wandered to rest on his thigh. I quickly withdrew it, feeling a blush spread across my cheeks.
Breaking the silence, Colt finally spoke, his voice laced with warmth, "So, I hope that was a pleasant first kiss."
The words tumbled out of my mouth in a rush, my excitement getting the better of me. "Amazing!" I exclaimed, inwardly cringing at my lack of composure. But instead of mocking me, his smile only widened, leaving me even more bewildered. Every time I interacted with him, I felt like I stumbled over my words and made a fool of myself, yet he never seemed to mind. If anything, it only made him smile. Could he truly be different? It seemed impossible.
"Well, I'm glad," he said, rising from the bench. "I have to say, I'm surprised it was your first kiss because you're an excellent kisser."
"N-No, it's you. I-I'm not, um... I didn't- No idea," I stammered, struggling to form a coherent sentence. His compliment had me blushing furiously and my thoughts spiraling.
"I guess I'll just have to kiss you again to make sure," he said, a confident smile playing on his lips. I stared at him in silent astonishment, my mouth agape. Did he really want to kiss me again? Why? Wasn't he just being kind, helping me experience a first kiss? I couldn't comprehend his intentions.
"I'll see you around, Scott," he said, his smile lingering before he turned and trotted away, back to his jogging routine.
I remained seated on the bench, trying to process what had just happened. The taste of his kiss still lingered on my lips, and a newfound warmth filled my heart. As I watched him disappear into the distance, I noticed the pressure in my pants. Simply kissing me had me so hard, I needed to relieve some pressure. Right now. I extracted my average-sized penis from the confines of my underwear, and I started jerking it in quick motions. Closing my eyes to remember the kiss I just had with the sexiest man I'd ever seen. It didn't take me long to shoot all over the ground under the table where I was sitting.
Fuck. I definitely want more, but I also don't want this to end up like James. What am I gonna do?