You know the drill: The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages, neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most states and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such.
% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
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GeTTiNG ReaDY FoR CoLLeGe 15 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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The Cobra Starship jingle began playing and slowly Tony recognized the sound of the tune as he stirred awake. It was dark in the room and easy to find the lighted dial of his cellphone, half-buried in the sheets. He picked it up, noticing still, some dried cum on it, but nonetheless, opened it. "Takos?" he said, seeing the full name of `Achilles Diamantakos'. It was another text message and it made Tony vulnerable all over, the message reading, "I'm not mad at you." That was all. It made Tony break down again.
This time it was a 'real' call after the jingle began, Tony not bothering to read who it was from. When greeted, he answered back, "Ferran? Where are you?" He was always `conditioned' to ask the same, his job to keep track of his brother. It was short, Ferran telling Tony he was spending time with Rico and wouldn't see his brother till tomorrow.
After closing the phone, Tony made a long exhale, saying, "What am I gonna do about Takos?"
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For the record, Ferran was actually at Gianni's restaurant, sitting in a booth with Rico, so he figured he wasn't lying.
"Thanks for giving up your lunch date for me today, Ferran. Um, Ryan, he wasn't pissed at you, was he?"
"No. Not at all."
"What about Peterson? Do you think he'll ask you again?"
"I dunno," Ferran said, twirling spaghetti around his fork.
"Something funky with the pasta?" Rico asked, as Ferran seemed to study it.
"Nah. I'm just thinking."
Rico asks, "Of Peterson or Ryan?"
"Both actually. Ryan's a nice guy and... well, Peterson is 'Peterson'?" Ferran says, finally shoveling his fork in his mouth, messing up the smile on his face.
Most of their lunchtime was dominated by Ryan, but Rico then gets another suspicious idea, "You're hot for Peterson's hairy chest?"
"No, idiot! It's not only Peterson's hairy chest. He's... well... I find him all of the stuff a guy kind of looks for in a guy... smart, nice guy, did I mention drop-dead gorgeous?"
"No, but you left out 'hairy'?" Rico's input enunciating Ferran's kinky side. "But most of all I can't believe you."
"What?" Ferran questions Rico's words and look.
"All the hot guys," he counts on his fingers, "on the soccer team, track'n'field, swim team, tennis and the fuckin' hot football team and you're chasing after older men?"
"I'm `not' chasing after older men! But for your own satisfaction I find older men attractive!" Ferran forked up another wad of spaghetti, this time stuffing his face.
"Okay. No problem. If you want to pass up the roughly fifty or so hot, sporty guys at school, not to mention the hot tamale who works in the library..."
"What hot guy in the library?" The fork hit the plate.
Sitting there, Ferran waited, but all Rico could give him was the smile on his face.
"Okay, Rico... give it up or else I'm flinging this forkful of spaghetti at your chest!" Ferran was all ready too, his fork loaded with a meatball, in position on his makeshift catapult, two fingers weighting the balance.
Rico was a little reluctant, regarding his macho reputation, but he knew it wouldn't matter, since Ferran was his bestest of best friends, "Um, Clay Roberts?"
"The geek?" Ferran replied with a chuckle.
"He happens to be smarter than both of us put together, is going to Middleman College in the fall and I think I might too?"
"Rico... you like really care for this guy? Have you slept with him?"
"Life is not only about sex, Ferran!"
"OMG! I don't believe what I'm hearing. Are you like some other guy dressed up as Rico?" Ferran reaches across the table and pinches Rico on the wrist to see if there is an outer layer of disguise.
"Cut it out, okay?"
"You're serious, Rico?"
"We haven't slept together, although I think I'd really like to. Clay said something about saving himself for some special man and then asked me if I wanted to do something."
"Like go to bed?"
Rico responds coolly, "Like dinner or a movie?"
"Well Rico," Ferran cleared his throat, "I never thought another guy would turn you into a decent man." He sat back with opinion, waiting for comment.
Rico had his own opinions, of course, but it wasn't regarding himself, "And I never thought 'you' would turn into such a slut, Ferran!"
Ferran loaded up the catapult. He didn't mean it, but accidentally on purpose released the lever, soiling up Abercrombie's name. The two laughed it off!
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"I don't know how life can go from so happy-go-lucky to dismal!"
It was Tony's statement for himself and looking at the clock next to the bed, it going on one-thirty in the afternoon, he couldn't believe he sulked all morning, well on both sides of almost choking the living daylights out of his best friend, only to have Achilles text him with forgiving remarks and what was he doing about it, but lying there in his cum-dried state, feeling sorry for himself!
"Damn it!" he said, jumping out of bed, into the shower, washing away guilt, sorrow and last night's sex, putting on a fresh new outlook of the world while towel-drying off.
He was a changed man and reflected it, while dancing with the towel, singing to a tune he hardly listened to, so only knew the chorus, "I'm comin' out... I've got to tell the world... hmm.. that's not how it goes," he stopped to correct himself in the mirror. "Oh well - what tha hell!"
Opening his drawer, he reached for his Levi's, but opted out for Dockers. Same with the closet, forfeited the tee shirt for a dress shirt. And still, as whistled, rather than fuck up the lyrics to 'I'm Coming Out', whistled the Diana Ross tune, singing the only part of the chorus he knew as he picked out a nice moderate tie to match and complete his dressy ensemble. Returning to the closet he stuck his toe in a sneaker, retrieving it, "Tony, you idiot!" he said to himself, "You're all dressed up in your Sunday best and you're going to be a sneakerhead?"
One last look in his bedroom mirror, Tony asseses himself, "Tony, what are you doing to yourself," he questioned himself. "Do you really want to be gay?" He took it upon himself to accept the responsibility of coming out, because "Once you do it, there's no turning back?"
Like his reflection was him, he waited to be told what to do. With his hands bracing him on his low dresser he leaned forwards and kissed 'the Tony in the mirror'. "Wasn't so bad," he said to himself.
He didn't think anything of it, grabbing his suit jacket, jogging down the stairs, taking his keys from the foyer table and heading out to his car.
"Going to a wedding?" Tony's next door neighbor asked him.
"No, Mrs. Johnson. Got a hot date!"
Though, when Tony sat in his car, his hand hesitated putting the key in the ignition. "Do I really want to do this?" he asked the guy in the rear view mirror. It was him speaking, but seemingly the answer came out of the mirror, saying, "How long do you want to go on torturing yourself Tony?"
The car started up.
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Ferran didn't go to lunch with Ryan, but when he left school by the main entrance, the 'limo' was waiting for him. He opened the car door, glancing at the back seat. "What's all this stuff for?"
"My luggage," Ryan replied.
Something wasn't right, Ferran detecting it right away, saying, "Luggage? Like are you going somewhere, Ryan?"
Not moving yet, Ryan bestowed upon Ferran, "Look, I'm sorry, but I haven't been totally truthful with you."
"What do you mean Ryan?" Suddenly Ferran felt very hot, not the kind of 'hot' hot sex makes a guy, but hot like when your blood feels like it's rushing your bod, evacuating to any exit.
"In between leaving the nanny job and as of about two months ago I was living with another man, but we broke up."
This had to be leading to someplace and Ferran wasn't anxious to hear. "You didn't say anything about a former lover?"
"I know. I didn't think it necessary since it was over and done with, but...
Feeling it coming, Ferran tried breathing, which he had to force, air in and air out.
"I'm sorry Ferran, but Jacob called me after you left. We talked and..."
Seeing the forest through the trees, Ferran says, "So we're history and you and this Jacob are picking up where you left off? Is that what you're trying to tell me Ryan?"
"That's about the gist of it Ferran. I'm sorry."
All Ferran could do is shake his head. Then suddenly he didn't wish to be in the presence of the harlot, lifting the door handle, making his exit. When out in the breezy afternoon, he took a deep breath of fresh air. But it didn't help his understanding of why a guy from his past, one he's known as loving, caring, 'there for you', suddenly turns traitor. He heard the window pulse down.
"Ferran, are you alright?" Ryan yelled, his bod fallen half across the seat so he could communicate out the window.
Not turning around, Ferran replied, "Damn you, Ryan!" Just in case Ryan felt like following him in his car, Ferran took the wooded walkway to the parking lot where he parked his car yesterday. Being it later in the afternoon, almost all of the seniors who had cars parked there, had left. Quickly he keyed the door and got inside, because he knew that very soon his emotional stress was going to catch up to him. And true to his thinking, his arms padded his forhead against the steering wheel and began expressing to himself how he felt at this moment in time.
He doesn't know how long he let the tears flow, but was interrupted by something tapping against his window. Not looking up, he figured it was Ryan. "Go away!" he yelled as his nose stayed pinned to the wheel.
The tap came again to his window, someone trying to cut through the glass, "Ferran, are you alright?"
It wasn't Ryan's voice and unsure of whose it was, he slowly cocked his head to look out the window, wiping his runny nose on the sleeve of his tee shirt.
"Ferran, are you sick?"
He was sick alright, love-sick to his stomach.
Then, with his car door opening, "Ferran, I'm worried about you. Are you okay?"
He knew he had to make acknowledgement, now that he was being confronted. Swinging his legs out the door, he sat there, saying, "I'm okay. Really I am, Mr. Peterson."
"Here," he suggested a handkerchief. "What happened? Someone you know pass away?"
"No. Nothing like that," Ferran said, wiping his runny nose. "I'll just go home and be fine."
"Not with that," Peterson said, nodding towards the hood.
"What?" Ferran inquired, standing up and looking over the car door. "Not a flat! Oh fuck! Just what I need!"
"I think what you need is a stiff drink!" Peterson suggests, in jest.
Switching his head back towards the rear of the car, Ferran replies, "I need more than that Mr. Peterson!"
"I know."
"Huh?"
"Was that your boyfriend in the car that pulled up in front of the school?"
"Yeah," Ferran replied in a low tone. Then disgusted, "That was Ryan."
"Have a falling out?"
"I should have followed Rico's advice."
One arm on the top of the car, the other holding Ferran's door open, Peterson asks, "What advice did he give you?"
"Find a guy right here in school to date. He said there are tons of hot guys in the sports programs and if I hung around some of them, maybe I'd find one or two who are like us."
"Meaning gay?"
Then off on a tangent, Ferran replies, "I think maybe until I get a different opinion about guys, I'll lay off."
"And what opinion would that be Ferran?"
"Older guys. They're out to find and use a younger guy, while they have a guy waiting in the wings. At least that's what I'm feeling. Ryan really used me. An interim lover while he made up his mind whether he liked his former boyfriend or not. I don't know. It's going to be tough trusting a guy again."
"Even though I don't know what you've gone through Ferran, I can honestly say I know what a guy goes through experiencing such a mishap when it comes to trust."
"You were in love once with a guy and he did the same thing to you?"
Peterson replies, "It was almost like your situation I think, though he let it go on for quite sometime before he coughed up the details and left me high and dry."
The eighteen year old, thinking about it, couldn't understand why a guy would at least go on looks and see what such a hot looking guy Peterson is. Secondly, Mr. Peterson seemed genuinely interested in his predicament. He didn't mean for it to slip out, but was vulnerable, "I can't see any guy not wanting you Mr. Peterson. You're good looking, but more than that."
"Thank you Ferran. Say, can I help you with the tire?"
Getting up, Peterson moved himself. Closing the door, the two proceed to the front of the car.
"Looks like a goner to me," Peterson assesses.
"Right. I can see the nail sticking out."
"Where?" Peterson says, squatting down, leaning on the curb in front of the car to get a more advantageous view.
"You have to almost lay down to see it."
He almost does, as Ferran stands there watching.
"Oh right. I see it. Real shame because the treads look good. Maybe it can be patched." Rising up, Peterson slaps his hands together. Then moving his nose around like it's itchy, he brushes his finger against it.
"You just put grease on yourself."
"Where?" Peterson responds, looking down at his tie.
Rather then detail it, Ferran says, "You know you would probably look good with a stache?"
Trying to look in Ferran's car mirror, Peterson replies, "Yeah. Half-a-stache!" Rifling through his pants pocket, he realises, "Oh, you've got my..."
Holding it up, Ferran has his white hanky in his hand.
Before snatching it away, Peterson says, "So, you like to jerk off, do you?"
"Huh? What makes you say that?"
"Hanky code, Ferran. Ever hear of it?" He wets the hanky with his tongue and wipes.
"Nope. What is it?"
"For cruising. Each color represents something a guy is looking for and a lot depends on if you're letting it hang out your left pocket or right side."
"So, the handkerchief has some significance to it?"
Peterson answers, "White means being engaged in jerking off. Either one guy can do it, or it can involve doing each other." And going for a long shot, "Want a demonstration?"
At this point Ferran could go for anything to cheer his depressed spirits. He wasn't adverse to trying the 'stiff drink', so, "Sure!"
"What?" Peterson was surprised as all hell!
"Hey, I'm a senior in high school. I'm sure when I get to college I'll be doing some of this stuff. Would be cool if somebody showed me all about it and instead of being the nerd who acts stoopid, I could be... um..."
"An authority on it. You could be the know-it-all dude," Peterson replies with a smile. He also inquires, "Are you a top?"
"All the way!" Ferran replies.
"See? You're assuming that alpha-male image already!"
"Alpha-male image Mr. Peterson?"
Face to face, Peterson strongly suggests, "You can't learn it all in one night, but tonight could be a start?"
"Let me guess. You want me to go home with you?"
"Have some dinner," Peterson runs his finger along the ridge of Ferran's beltline, the tip leaning in towards his stomach, "some dessert and then see where it goes?"
"I don't know Mr. Peterson. I was looking for a real true love-of-a-lifetime and thought this was it, when it wasn't. I think I better hang back for awhile. Besides, I'm not sure I want to date an older man again."
"We're not all 'Ryans', Ferran."
"I know, but I'm only eighteen and I've got plenty of time."
"I'm twenty-six and I have plenty of time too!"
Ferran knew it was there, Peterson's finger running back and forth along his belt, but wasn't shying away from it.
"I think you should stop that Mr. Peterson. It's making me kind of horny."
"Do you want me to stop Ferran?"
"Not really."
Peterson returned Ferran's smile, pushing a knuckle over the faultline, tucking it in the crevice between jeans and tee shirt. Enough that he sensed, "Briefs or boxer shorts?"
He answers, "Mr. Peterson, did you forget you're a teacher and you shouldn't be fraternizing with students?"
"I'm waiting for your answer about coming back to my place."
For sure, Ferran knew he wasn't going home in his junk, or at least to the restaurant. Home was like a hopeless situation, the 'gay guy' lurking around the 'straight crowd', led on by his brother and so he spent almost all of his time not there. Tonight he planned on being with Ryan, the skunk! He already knew probably Rico would be hanging with either Dejan or his new love interest, so where would it leave him tonight? "Rico says I'm fast with guys, that I move too fast."
"Tell you the truth?" Peterson asks, backing off with his probing finger.
"What?"
"If you came home with me, I'd have you stripped down before we got to the bedroom and my tongue would have worked over your bod till you were moaning in sweet ecstasy!"
"Is that from some Shakespeare play?"
"No," Peterson replies and then goes into detail, "from the first day you came into my class I wanted to know more about you and when I found out your were gay it became easier to think about the reality of such a fool-hardy idea ever coming true."
"What about Tom Fuller?"
"He's a poor kid who's caught in a rift between his mother and father not getting along, an older sister and brother who are into the drug scene and at the same time trying to hide his gay sexuality."
"Tom is gay?" Ferran asks in total surprise. "But he's so macho!"
"Oh really? So are you and I. Who would have ever guessed?"
"Um, you do talk with a little 'lisp', Mr. Peterson."
"I do? I didn't think I did?"
"Trust me. You do," Ferran reaffirms.
"Hey, are you hungry yet?" Peterson derails their train of thoughts.
"I thought 'you' were the hungry one, Mr. Peterson?"
He made a snarl like a jungle cat, making Ferran smile. "So does that mean you're going to 'feed me'?"
"If we ever get out of this parking lot. Where's your car?" Ferran surveys the five or so cars left.
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Copyright 2009 T. Chase McPhee
`GeTTiNG ReaDY FoR CoLLeGe' may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.
Feedback is welcomed. Make sure the name of the story, copied and pasted from this page, is in the subject line of your email or else it will be directed to hell before I get to open it! Email me for the links to additional stories I have written at NiFTy. survivalgame@yahoo.com Also, write NifTy and tell him about the good job he is doing, keeping the archives `going'!
The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness! TCMcP.....