DISCLAIMER: If sexual acts between consenting adult males are not legal or interesting for you to read, then please move on, this story is not for you -- and shame on you for getting this far. Otherwise, here is another story I hope you enjoy reading.
CATCHING FIRE:
I guess I've always been gay. I never acknowledged it to anyone and barely recognized the fact in myself. Sometimes it just takes that special someone in the right circumstance to find that part of yourself you never knew existed. I was nineteen when I found out for sure and he was twenty-five.
He'd lived three blocks down the street from me my entire life, but I never really knew him until my dad brought him home for me. Get your mind out of the gutter -- it wasn't that kind of situation at all. Matthew was nineteen and applying for his first serious job as a dispatcher in the fire department. I was thirteen and knew a thing or two about computers. He needed a resume and I owed my dad some money. You can do the math from there. My father sure did when Matt mentioned it to him.
I remember feeling out of place at first when Matt came around to see me. I mean here was this older guy coming to me for advice on his resume. Turns out he knew quite a bit himself, he just didn't have a computer or a clue how to use one. I was just a means of getting his thoughts down on paper in a format that would get him hired. But he didn't treat me that way, not at all. He approached me with respect, like I mattered, kind of like how an older brother would on those sappy TV shows. I mean back then we were worlds apart. He was past the cusp of adulthood while I was barely a full year into my teens.
We spent three hours in my room that first night, hunched over my computer trying to get things just right. I remember I was a little embarrassed, because my room was a mess and I wasn't really dressed for company. I had been just lounging around barefoot in my shorts and an old T-shirt. My hair must have been sticking out at all angles and I'm sure my room smelled like a barnyard. Nonetheless, he sat beside me on my bed the whole while as I typed on the keyboard. We laughed and joked together the entire time and in the end, the resume looked great.
Matt got the job, and I am sure I was one of the first people he told. If he worked out all right, he had a chance of getting hired on as a firefighter eventually which was his ultimate goal. Trouble was, in the meantime he would need to improve his computer skills and fast, just to keep the position he had. So much of his job involved using a computer and he was hopeless. I offered to be his tutor and he agreed, so long as it was fine with my parents.
My dad liked Matt. They played hockey together in a league on Tuesday nights and they seemed to have a lot in common. They watched a lot of the same shows on TV and even read the same books. In the years to come it was just as likely for Matt to be sitting talking with my father as it was for him to be with me. The fact that Matt was going to be a firefighter made it easier as well. My dad respected him entirely and never gave it a second thought when we spent so much time alone together. Matthew was a role model, an example of all the things I should have been but usually wasn't.
Looking back now, I sometimes wondered if Matt had something in mind the entire time. I don't think he did, I think it just happened afterwards. I can't remember a single time when he was ever out of line. The entire time I knew him he was like an older brother to me -- and nothing more.
It took a few months for Matt to become proficient with the computer. It became our routine that on Monday nights he'd come by and we'd spend a few hours in my room. One night he suggested we go out for coffee afterwards and I accepted right away. It was one thing to be my friend in my room but he was willing to be my friend in public too. I didn't really even like coffee then, but I wasn't about to miss out on being treated like an equal, what highschool kid wouldn't?
That was the way it went after that first night. A few hours on the computer and a few hours in the coffee shop. He was easy to talk with and knew how to listen as well. Together we solved the world's problems and a few of our own too. I looked forward to seeing him each week and often called him on other days when things went well in my life or when times were particularly screwed up.
He taught me how to drive standard and I went to his graduation from the fire academy when I was fifteen. By then he was actually pretty competent on the computer but he still came around to shoot the breeze with my dad and I, and we still went out for coffee as well.
He was always there when I needed him, and at times when I wished I didn't. By seventeen I had left home a few times and he had always talked me back to my senses. I had hoped he would let me stay with his family awhile, but he'd take me right back to my parent's house and smooth things over instead.
He'd held my head over the toilet while I puked up the too many drinks I thought I needed one night. He stifled a smile when I dyed my hair jet black and pierced my ears for the third time, but he never chased me away or talked down to me.
We both cried at my mother's funeral the next year. It happened pretty quickly, an aneurysm they said. Dad took it pretty hard and wasn't much good to me afterwards, but Matt was there then as always. I soon lost the earrings and colored my hair a closer approximation of its natural shade. Dad faded into his own misery and never quite rebounded. I saw my father less and less as he slowly crawled inside a bottle over the next twelve months. But let me tell you more about Matthew instead.
Matt always seemed to know the right thing to do and say, except when it came to women. He had the worst luck I had ever seen. They were all pretty that's for sure, but definitely never appreciated what they had in Matthew. He was about six feet tall then with a heavy frame that comes from working out all the time. He was quite a catch. I could see it, and the fire department had decorated him twice by the time he was twenty-four. Each of his girlfriends treated him like dirt. The next always more so than the one before.
The last one was the worst. Lynette was her name. She ordered him around like he was a dog yet he seemed not to notice. I only met her a couple of times and I knew she was the reason why I stayed home Monday nights instead of my usual practice. Imagine my shock when he told me he was actually engaged to her. I didn't hear from him at all for the next three months after he dropped that bombshell.
One night out of the blue he called me. When the phone rang I was surprised to hear his voice, "Hey Jon, you up for a coffee tonight?" It was Monday after all, and hearing his voice made me nostalgic so I agreed. "Great, I'll pick you up" he said.
Just like old times. I couldn't stay mad at him anymore, anyway. I'd give Lynette another chance for his sake. Maybe she just made a rotten first impression or something. I found myself feeling really bad for letting her come between my best friend and me. That was it, I never really realized that was what he had become. Six years it had taken me to figure out, Matt was my best friend.
He picked me up at ten and we drove a short distance to the donut shop, parked in the same spot and made our way to our regular table. I'd been talking non-stop the whole way there and most of the next half hour as well. I didn't even notice he had something to say until he interrupted.
"We broke up last night, me and Lynette. It's over for good; she even gave me the ring back. You're the first person I've told."
It was all I could do to stifle a grin and a sudden urge for a high-five. Somehow I found it within me to express the appropriate amount of shock and concern, all the while resisting the urge to shout, "I told you so". I offered my regrets and asked what had happened.
"I just couldn't take it anymore, she was always so insecure -- so wrapped up in herself. It was like I didn't matter to her. I was just a placeholder, a trophy -- I wondered if she knew anything about me near the end."
"I know it's not worth much now Matt, but I really think you're better off without her. I could tell from the start she didn't care about your life, your friends or anything that you were involved with. Maybe I was selfish but I knew if she was around then I couldn't be -- we never really clicked."
"Lynette never clicked with anyone around me, especially you. She really bugged me about that too, called you a kid and teased me for being your friend. Truth is I never had a problem with you, even when you WERE a kid you knew how to behave better than she did half the time. So much for maturity." With that he rolled his eyes and stared out the window thinking it over.
"Maybe I could teach her better manners then she'd be perfect", I teased, "if you recall, I have excellent tutoring skills"
"I think there is a better chance of her teaching you how to give a good blow job then you'd be perfect", he laughed a bit and then some more, nervously. Then it happened. He hesitated and looked down for a few seconds. The words just hung there and I stared right at him.
"Is that what you want?" I asked, speaking slowly. Something had changed. It was momentary but it was tangible and on the verge of being denied. Suddenly, I didn't want that to happen.
"What?" he answered and although I wouldn't have thought it possible he seemed even more nervous. This time he held my gaze, he was waiting for my answer.
"I could learn..." I couldn't bring myself to say it, I didn't want to be the one to confirm the innuendo that was ricocheting between us. At the same time though I worried that if I didn't he wouldn't either.
"Let's get out of here, that's not even funny", he said -- but it was to me. Somehow I just knew. I saw the potential shift in the span of a few seconds. It all made perfect sense. I'd dated a few girls in highschool but never anything serious and nothing ever past a kiss or quick feel. It never really bothered me and I just figured the right one hadn't come along, not that I was looking either. It wasn't until Matt spoke the words that I put it all together. I could be gay with him -- if he'd let me.
The car ride home was fairly subdued, a stark contrast to the start of our night. Now all of a sudden it was just small talk, he seemed a million miles away. As we turned onto our street I asked him when we would get together again. He coasted to a stop in front of my house and sat there with the engine idling and just shrugged. I opened the door and got out then stuck my head back inside the car.
"Matt, I'm sorry about Lynette, but I'm also real glad we're friends again. Let's get together again soon ok?" I asked. He smiled and nodded then turned towards me.
"Sure thanks Jon. That's one offer I can accept".
I closed the door and waved to him as he drove off. Damn! I wondered if I'd see him again and if things would be as awkward. I had a feeling I had maybe pushed a little to far to fast, but I was confident I was right about the direction I was headed. I wanted him to turn around and come back immediately, but it would be morning until I saw him again.
I went inside and closed the door. I could hear my father watching the television in the basement and by the number of empty beer cans on the kitchen counter I knew it was best not to disturb him. Ever since my mother died he was drunk most of the time and only went into work a few days each week. Most of the time we just avoided each other. One night when things were particularly bad he told me he couldn't stand to see my face anymore because I looked too much like my mom. After that I pretty much left him alone whenever he got into it. He was a pretty big guy and I knew better than to get in his way. I went into my room and closed the door, then lay down on my bed.
Actually, my father and I were nothing alike. I did take after my mother far more than I did him. I had her light red hair, pale skin and thin build. I only reached five foot seven and if you put rocks in my pocket I might weigh in at 125 pounds. Not surprising, sports were never my strong point either. I think my father's idea of a perfect son was someone more like Matt. He excelled at every sport he attempted. Given his height and the 220 pounds of muscle he accumulated, Matt looked the part as well. In fact, Matt had the same dark hair, tanned skin and blue eyes as my father too. No wonder they hit it off so well. Matt was the son Dad wanted I was just the one he got. I fell asleep then thinking that maybe with Matt around again, my father would tolerate me better...
I awakened early the next morning to the sound of the national anthem. Checking my clock I could see that it was only five in the morning. As my head cleared I realized it was the television, which meant that channel five was now starting its broadcast day. My father likely fell asleep in his chair again. It happened more often than not lately, although usually when the test pattern ended at the new day began he woke up enough to express his usual disdain for the red maple leaf billowing on the screen; but not this morning.
I trudged downstairs still wrapped in the blanket from my bed. I walked past my father who was indeed still in his chair and turned off the television as the music faded out. I turned around to go back upstairs and froze in my tracks.
"NO! Oh God no, please...", but it was obvious. My father was dead in his chair. I saw the empty pill bottle beside an overturned bottle of whiskey. I saw the grayish purple colour of his face and the same mottled shade in his hands. I saw the note on the table with my name at the top. Together they bore silent witness to the fact that my father had taken his own life last night.
I stood there for a few minutes contemplating what to do next and then I called Matt. It took him about twenty minutes to get there which surprised me since he lived so close. It also gave me the time I needed to break up the pill bottle and flush it down the toilet along with the single hateful page my father left for me to find. I was still crying when Matt arrived. He called the police and held me close in his arms until they arrived.
The entourage that followed was a horrible spectacle. Matt was successful in assuring the paramedics and firefighters that resuscitation was no longer a viable option but the police had to investigate my father's death. The detectives arrived a while after and asked a bunch of questions. Matt stayed with me the entire time and the cops seemed to defer to him, which I didn't mind. Finally, the coroner arrived and examined the scene and my father's body. He conferred with the detectives and then asked to speak with me in private.
They had come to the conclusion that my father had been drinking too much since my mother died, not eating properly and had likely suffered a heart attack. They assured me that he probably did not suffer and then asked the delicate question as to whether I wanted an autopsy or if I was satisfied with their explanation. I didn't answer right away, but eventually told them I didn't see the point of one and they agreed with my decision. An hour later the funeral home took my father away. No one ever suspected the truth in his demise, but I could never forget it.
"I can't stay here any more Matt. Do you think I could stay the night with your family?" I asked.
"No", he answered, "but you can stay with me at my place if you like." Matt explained that he and Lynette had rented an apartment downtown, except of course she would never live there now. I packed up a few things, locked the door and left with Matt.
It was a decent sized place on the top floor of the six-story building. Inside the two-bedroom apartment it was sparsely furnished with only the barest essentials in most rooms. The exception was the master bedroom, which was completely finished and tastefully decorated. We dropped off my stuff and went out for a late lunch. The rest of the afternoon was spent at the funeral home making arrangements and then Matt took me out for supper. We had a few drinks afterwards and by nine that night we were both ready to sleep.
Matt offered to sleep on the floor in the living room and leave me the bedroom. I told him I'd rather not be alone and eventually convinced him we could share the bed. He argued a bit but gave in finally. We slept together in Matt's king-size bed. I just shucked off my clothes and crawled under the covers in my boxer shorts. Matt went into the bathroom and returned wearing pajama bottoms. He got in on the opposite side and said good night; he was sleeping ten minutes later.
I slept restlessly and woke often. I was certain my tossing and turning would wake Matt up, but he seemed not to be affected. Sometime after two I finally dozed off. The next time I opened my eyes I was acutely aware I could hardly breathe. I was being pressed deeper and deeper into the mattress, something heavy was upon my back and I could feel rhythmic pressure against my ass. Matt was right on top of me, dry humping my butt and the weight of his body was pushing my head into the pillow. I tried to move my arms but I was laying on them and they were trapped beneath me. I wanted to call out but I couldn't. Then all at once, his body went rigid and I felt warmth spreading up from my bum towards the small of my back and then running off to either side of my body in thin rivulets.
Matt adjusted his weight and rolled back over onto his side of the bed, never even waking up. I turned my head and caught my breath but hardly moved. I reached my hand back behind me and felt the warm slickness against the back of my boxer shorts and in the hollow of my back. With Matt off of me the sheets now rested against the wetness and now adhered to my back. Cautiously, I reached my hand over to where Matt was sleeping. He had rolled onto his side with his back towards me and was taking long slow breaths. I placed my hand on his back and found him covered in a light sweat. I slid over towards him and reached my hand onto the front of his pajama bottoms and noticed two things; they were up and very wet as well. He had ejaculated right through his clothing and onto mine while he slept. I quickly withdrew my hand lay there looking at the back of his head until eventually the fire inside my head was extinguished and I surrendered to a deep and dream filled sleep.
Drop me a line if you get the chance. I appreciate knowing those who have enjoyed something I created. Be sure and tell me a little about yourself when you write. At times I receive so many letters it is hard to keep up, but I always manage to reply to everyone. I hope to hear from you soon!
Chad Prescott.