Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. The story contains graphic descriptions of sex between men, and anyone who is forbidden by law to read such material must exit the story now. This story is being posted to the Nifty Archive for the enjoyment of its readers. It may not be posted or distributed by any other medium without the written permission of its author.
My other works in the Nifty Archive include Unusual Christmas and Nick's Adventures, both in bisexual/high school, First Mate and Twin Spin in gay/incest, The Dancer and Call-Boy Journal in gay/encounters, and From Slave to Houseboy in gay/authoritarian.
E-mail comments are always welcome.
My First Year With Kevin
Chapter 1
I had looked forward to this day for two weeks with a great deal of anxiety. It was the day I was moving, presumably until I left home, to New Orleans to live with my father, his gay lover, and his gay lover's son. When I got off the plane from San Diego in New Orleans International Airport, my knees were weak, and I was trembling with nerves. I couldn't imagine what to expect.
Not that I wasn't glad to leave San Diego. I had been born in New Orleans, but my mom and I had moved away from there when my parents divorced when I was eight. I'd see my dad during the summer, but, when he announced he was gay and moved in with Frank and Frank's son Kevin when I was eleven, the visits stopped. Dad and Frank had been lovers for four years at that point, but they had maintained the sham of separate residences. When Dad finally came out to Mom, she got a court order ending his visitation rights. She thought he would be a bad influence on me. Mom and I were pretty close, but she had some strong homophobic feelings in those days.
Like my dad and Frank, she was (and still is, of course) a lawyer, and she put in a lot of time in her law practice. It wasn't until I was fifteen that she even dated seriously, and she ended up marrying the first guy she went out with more than a couple of months. He was pretty nice, at first, but he was a retired Navy lawyer and had some pretty strict rules I had to follow. I balked at them, especially since they were such a big change from what I had been used to with Mom. Pretty soon, Morris and I were fighting all the time. He didn't like my haircut. He didn't like the music I listened to. He didn't like the way I dressed. He just about went crazy when he found out I smoked cigarettes. In short, everything I did or wanted to do was bad in his eyes.
The shit really hit the fan right after I turned eighteen in November of my junior year. They found out I was gay and had a boyfriend. He came really close to beating me on more than one occasion, and he did everything in his power to make my life hell. Finally, after more fights and arguments than I can remember, he and Mom started working on moving me back to New Orleans to live with my dad. I was pretty broken up about the whole thing for a while. I didn't want to leave my mom, my friends, and Paul, my boyfriend. Things got so bad, though, especially after Paul and I broke up, that I was only too glad to get the hell out of there, even if it meant going to live with people I hadn't seen in years.
I didn't feel as though I knew my dad, and I wasn't sure how he'd take to me. He was wonderful about sending all the money he was supposed to--and more, usually--but so much had happened in the five years I hadn't seen him that I didn't know what to expect. Not only that, when I visited before, Kevin and I spent a hell of a lot of time together and really got along well. We were best friends, in fact. I didn't know how he'd treat me or whether we'd even like each other any more. Then there was the whole issue of my being gay. I pretty much figured Dad and Frank would understand, but, for all I knew, Kevin was polishing off pussy every weekend.
Anyway, with that emotional baggage in tow, I deplaned in New Orleans around five in the afternoon on June 10th. It was hot as hell there, and the walk down the ramp from the plane to the terminal made me know the climate was worse than I'd expected. I followed the signs to the luggage claim area, dragging a rolling suitcase and toting another carry-on on my shoulder. As I got closer to where I was supposed to meet my dad, my stomach got tighter and tighter, and the warm, humid air in the terminal made my armpits damp.
When I got to the place I was going, all three of them were there, wearing the biggest smiles I'd seen in a long time. Dad grabbed me and hugged me tight. Frank did the same. Kevin was less effusive, but he shook my hand warmly as said, "How's it going, dude?"
Dad and Frank looked about the same as I remembered, but, oh, had Kevin changed. I remembered a skinny little kid that was about my size. What I saw before me then was an eighteen-year-old "man," who was about six feet tall, blond-haired and blue-eyed, built like a quarterback who spent six hours a day in the gym, and drop-dead gorgeous. His face was perfect, his teeth were perfect, his clothes were perfect. He was perfect. God, had he changed for the better. I had, too, of course. I was 5'10", weighed 140 pounds, and wasn't too bad in the face department. But I was nothing like this Nordic god that stood before me. I wanted to hug him to feel those muscles against me.
There was a lot of small talk about my trip and about getting my luggage squared away. Then we heard an announcement that it would be at least thirty minutes before the luggage from my flight would be unloaded because they were having some kind of problem with the lock on the luggage compartment.
"Why don't we gab a cup of coffee while we wait," Dad said.
"That sounds good," Frank said.
So we trouped off to a coffee shop and took a seat. Frank pulled out a pack of cigarettes and was about to light up when the waiter reminded him the airport was a "smoke-free" building. I was dying for a smoke after four hours on the plane, and I figured Frank and Dad wanted one, too. I was sure that the Golden Boy wouldn't understand our cravings, though, and that he would be fine.
After we were served, Dad said, "Matt, I'm afraid we've got some bad news for you. Frank and I, and Kevin, of course, have been looking forward to your arrival for over a month, but we have to leave on the six o'clock flight for Houston. We'll be gone at least two weeks, but this just isn't something we can avoid. A case we've been working on for months has been moved up on the court docket, and we've just got to be there."
"Oh," I said. Frankly, I didn't know how to react.
"But Kevin is going to be with you," Frank said, "and this might be a good opportunity for you guys to get reacquainted without us old guys around."
Dad chuckled, Kevin smiled dimly, and I just kind of stared at the table.
Finally, I said something like, "That's cool," and attacked the apple pie and coke I had ordered.
We didn't have time to say much before they called for the flight Frank and Dad were supposed to catch. They had apparently already checked their luggage, and they both got up to leave.
"Kevin, you take real good care of our boy," Dad said.
"Don't worry, Denis, I will. Oh, who's the guy we're supposed to call if we get arrested?"
Dad and Frank laughed, and Kevin enjoyed their enjoyment of his witticism.
"Asshole," Dad said, and Kevin laughed. He leaned over and kissed Kevin on the cheek. Frank did the same thing. They both told me goodbye without the physical manifestation of affection they had for Kevin, and then they were gone. He and I sat there in silence for a few minutes. Then they announced that the luggage from my flight was in the terminal, so Kevin and I got up to retrieve it.
The ride home in Kevin's car was something less than an animated reunion. After we pulled out of the parking lot, I took out a cigarette and lit up. Kevin stared over at me with a look of--what? contempt?--then he said, "Can I have one of those?" I got my pack out of my coat pocket with amazing speed and gave him a cigarette. At least he smoked. He pulled a plastic lighter out of his pants pocket and lit up. He turned on the car stereo to a CD by a group that I knew, and we let the music fill the void of conversation. When the song ended, the CD ejected from the player. I decided to make my move.
"Kevin, I know you're probably not too happy about my coming to live with you guys. There's just nothing I could do about it."
He didn't say anything.
"Kevin, we're not strangers," I said. "Did you hear what I just said?"
After a few seconds, he noticed I was there.
"Oh, man, I'm sorry. I'm just really fucked up today. I'm glad you're going to be living with us. In fact, I've always kind of considered you like a brother, you know?"
"Me, too, man. That's why the silent treatment is bothering me."
"I know, but I just can't help it right now," Kevin said.
"So, what's the matter," I asked.
"Oh, it's kind of personal."
"Yeah," I said.
We drove along the Interstate for a while, but we soon turned off onto city streets. They lived in an area of town known as Old Metairie, and it was pretty close to the airport. I'd never been there. Dad and Frank had had the place built shortly after they moved in together, and it was in a really nice neighborhood. The houses were huge, and the street was lined with oak trees on both sides that made a canopy over the road. The neighborhood was better than nice. It was fantastic. We drove down a back street and pulled into a large garage. There were two other cars there, which I assumed belonged to Frank and my dad.
Kevin popped open the trunk from inside the car, and he and I got my stuff out. I had sent several boxes of stuff by UPS so I could travel lighter. Even so, I had my two carry-on pieces and two large suitcases I'd checked. Kevin grabbed the two large suitcases, and I took the other stuff. At the back door, he punched a code into the security system, and we went inside. The yard we walked through was really a sculpted garden, and there was a large pool and a poolhouse off the terrace. It was still light enough for me to see the inside of the house without electricity, and it was fantastic. I knew Frank and my dad made a lot of money, but, from the looks of that place, they were downright rich.
"Our rooms are upstairs," Kevin said. "Let's go put this stuff away."
I followed him into the kitchen and through the kitchen to a kind of back foyer.
"These are the back stairs. I usually use them because they're closer to my room and because I just like to come down into the kitchen," he said. "The front part of the house is pretty formal, and you've got to be really careful of the antiques and shit that are there."
"This place is really great," I said. "We had a nice house in California, but it wasn't nearly as nice as this."
Kevin didn't respond to that remark. By then we were at the top of the stairs. He took me down the hall to my bedroom. It was large, and the furniture was really cool. There were the usual bedroom things, of course, like a bed and a chest of drawers and nightstands, but there was also a really nice desk, an entertainment center with TV, stereo, and VCR, and a computer table with its own chair. There was a kind of easy chair with an ottoman, too. I figured I could log some reading hours in that thing.
"This is the bathroom," Kevin was saying, as I was checking out the room. "It connects to my bedroom, and you and I can share it, I guess. There are two more bedrooms across the hall with their own bathrooms, so you could use one of them if you wanted to. But I don't mind if we use the same one. In fact, it might be kind of fun."
"Cool," I said. I wondered what he meant by it being kind of fun. Then I put any thought of Kevin and I getting into anything sexual out of my mind. I was even a little embarrassed for thinking about that.
I went into the bathroom to check it out, and Kevin followed me. There were two sinks, a toilet, of course, an extra-large shower stall, and a huge whirlpool tub. The strangest thing, though, was there was also a urinal on the wall.
Kevin saw me look at it, and he smiled at my reaction. "Is this what I think it is," I asked.
"Yep," he said.
"I've never seen a urinal in a house before," I said.
"I know," he said. "But Frank and Denis designed this house with the idea that someday you and I would share this bathroom. I wake up with a hard-on every morning. They figured we both would. When I try to piss in a toilet, I get the piss everywhere. The urinal works perfect."
I felt my face get hot, so I know I must have blushed. Kevin noticed.
"Aren't you hard when you wake up," he asked.
"Well, yeah. Usually."
"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, Matt. Every guy wakes up hard. That's just a fact of life. The urinal is a very practical solution to a universal problem."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," I said. I was overwhelmed at that point by images. I saw this Greek god of a boy naked and hard as I brushed my teeth. I could just imagine myself saying something like, "Move over, hunk, and let me stick my hard-on into that urinal with you so I can piss like a fucking racehorse." "No, problem, dude," he'd say. "Stick that fucker in there with me."
"Matt," Kevin said, questioningly.
"Sorry. I was just a little distracted by all of this."
"Why don't you put your stuff away." We walked back into the room. "This is your closet." He opened the door to a walk-in closet that was a big as the living rooms of a good many mobile homes. "I, er, need to make a phone call. I'll be in my room. Okay?"
"Yeah, man. Do what you gotta do," I said. Kevin then did something that surprised the hell out of me. He put his arms around me and kissed me hard on my cheek.
"I'm sorry I've acted like such a prick. I really do love you, Matt, and I really am glad you're here. I want us to be best friends and brothers and all that shit. I really do, man. I love your dad like a second father, and I really want the four of us to be a family." Then he kissed me again before letting me go.
He went to his room through the bathroom. My heart was beating faster and harder at that point than it had as I walked off the plane that afternoon, and I had thought that that had been a record. I had gotten about half hard when he was holding me, and I could feel my precum wetting my underwear. I sat in the easy chair and lit a cigarette. I didn't know what to make of all of this, and I wondered what the possibilities would be. There was an ashtray on the table next to the chair, like they had anticipated I'd need it, and, when I finished my smoke, I got up and unpacked. I turned on the radio on the stereo system, but mostly I concentrated on what was happening to me.
It took me a half hour or so to put my stuff away. I didn't know where the boxes were that I had sent, but the stuff I had brought didn't take long to distribute. When I went into the bathroom to put my stuff away, I noticed Kevin had closed the door into his room. I wasn't sure what that meant, but I decided it really meant nothing.
After I finished unpacking, I changed into something more suitable to the weather. I had worn a coat and tie on the plane--at my step-father's insistence--so I changed into shorts and a tee shirt, like Kevin was wearing. Then I wanted to check out my computer. It was a brand new system, and it seemed to have everything I wanted. Dad had asked me if I wanted him to get me one, so I gave him the specs. I wanted to go online, but I was afraid Kevin might still be on the phone. I gently picked up the phone on my desk, and there was a dial tone. I figured he was off the line, so I logged on. I checked my e-mail and had only a brief message from my friend Bruce that said something like, "Miss you already." I smiled and logged off.
When I checked the clock next to my bed, it read 7:05. I reset my watch to Central Daylight Time. Then I thought about maybe getting something to eat. I walked through the bathroom to the door to Kevin's room, and I knocked. There was no answer at first, but I could hear noise coming from in there. I knocked again, harder the second time.
"Yeah," he said.
"Can I come in," I asked.
"Yeah."
When I opened the door, I found Kevin on his bed, facing downward, apparently crying. I didn't know what to do. Should I back out and pretend I hadn't even gone in there? Should I go over and hug him? What should I do?
I didn't have long to wait to find out. Kevin turned over and sat up.
"Hey, man," he said. "Come on in."
He wiped his tears away and sat there with the longest and saddest face I'd ever seen--on him, at least. I walked over and sat next to him on the bed.
"What's the matter, guy," I asked.
He didn't answer for what seemed like a long time. It probably wasn't more than a few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity. Then he said, "I just talked to my girlfriend. She never wants to see me again." Then the tears and sobs started again.
"Oh, man," I said. That was very lame, I knew, but I didn't know what else to say.
"She said she doesn't think we fit together," he said. "I tried to get her to tell me what the fuck that means, but she wouldn't."
"Are you in love with her," I asked.
"Yeah," he said. "Kind of." Then he started crying again.
"Maybe she'll come around," I said.
"I don't think so," he said.
"Girls do, though," I said.
"I know, but I think it's really over. She didn't outright say it, but she hinted real strong that she thinks I'm gay."
Whoa! I thought. What the fuck's going on here? Is he? Why does she think that?
"What did she say," I asked.
Again, he paused a long time. Then, "She said she thought we both might be better off with people we were sexually compatible with. That's her fuckin' sister's talk, man. She doesn't know what the fuck that means."
I laughed at what he said, and he smiled a little, too.
"Go on," I said.
"Her sister's a lesbian. She's out to everybody, and that's cool. I don't give a shit, but Jennifer ain't a lesbian."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he said. "I'm gonna tell you something like you were my brother, okay?"
"Okay," I said.
"And if you ever tell, I'll beat the shit out of you."
He was serious, and I knew it.
"Go ahead. I won't tell."
"Well," he said, "the last two times we fucked, er, had sex--last night and two nights ago--I didn't come. Okay? I had had a lot to drink both times, and I didn't really feel anything when I fucked her. Now don't think she didn't come. Hell, she came three or four times, at least. That's what made her think I'm queer."
"Does it bother you that somebody thinks you're queer," I asked.
He thought for a long time. Then he said, "It wouldn't bother me if I was queer. Hell, I've grown up in a house with 'my two dads.' I love those guys, and I know they love each other. I don't have anything against queers. I probably know more queers than most guys my age. More, even, than queers my age do. But I just don't fuckin' know about me."
There was a long pause. Then I decided to come out to him.
"Kevin," I said. "I'm queer."
I expected some kind of reaction, but there wasn't any. After a pause he said, "I know."
"How'd you know?"
"I don't know how, Matt. I just knew."
"Does it bother you that I'm queer?"
"If it bothered me, do you think I would have hugged and kissed you a little while ago? I felt you start to get hard. I saw how you looked at me when you got off the plane. It doesn't matter to me if you're queer. Or if I'm queer. I just don't know."
"Have you ever had sex with a guy," I asked.
He paused a long time, like he was thinking about what to tell me. "No. Not yet."
My cock had already started putting on weight, but when he said "not yet," it sprang to life.
"Have you ever thought about making it with a guy," I asked.
"Well, who the fuck hasn't," he asked.
I laughed.
Kevin didn't laugh. He got up and got a pack of cigarettes out of his desk drawer. We each took one and lit up. We didn't talk much as we smoked. Then he said,
"Look, this conversation has done me some good. But right now I'm so hungry I could eat the world. Let's go get something to eat."
He took me to a place called Chubby's. It was a combination pool hall and restaurant, although all they really served was sandwiches. The fat guy behind the bar greeted Kevin by name. Kevin introduced me to Chubby and said I was his half-brother who had moved back to New Orleans from California to live.
"You guys look like you're about the same age," Chubby said.
"He's six months older than I am," Kevin said.
"That makes you guys Irish twins, sort of," a guy at the bar said.
"What the hell are Irish twins," Chubby asked.
"It's two siblings born in the same year. They aren't real Irish twins because they've got different mothers. Isn't that right, guys?"
"Yeah," Kevin said.
"Oh," Chubby said with apparent lack of interest in pursuing the subject further. He took our order for roast beef po'boys and draft beers.
Kevin and I took seats at a table. Then I said, "I was surprised he gave us these beers without wanting to see ID."
"Chubby knows me. Besides, you'll rarely get checked in New Orleans. That's just part of the culture here."
After we ate, Kevin asked me if I wanted to shoot some pool. I did, and we played several games of Eight Ball. I'm a pretty good shooter, but Kevin beat me in every game but one. We didn't talk much during the games, except about shots and stuff. Several guys in the place knew Kevin, and sometimes he'd introduce me and other times he wouldn't. Once, a kid about our age bummed a cigarette off Kevin. He hung around smoking it for a few minutes, but Kevin didn't engage him in conversation. The kid finally left.
"Who was that," I asked.
"His name's Jimmy, and he's a pain in the ass. He never has cigarettes and always want to bum 'em. I didn't want to encourage him to tag along with us."
We went home around ten o'clock and sat down in what I assumed was the den. I asked Kevin if I could look around the rest of the house.
"Shit, I'm sorry," he said. "Sure. Let me show you around."
I'd already seen the kitchen, breakfast room, and back hall, which is what Kevin called the foyer that the back stairs led into. He showed me the dining room, the living room, the "front hall," which was really the foyer, the front stairs. Then he took me into another part of the house.
"This is Frank and Denis' private area," he said. There was a magnificent study with a partners desk that they obviously shared. Then, to my surprise, there were two bedrooms, one for each of them.
"They don't sleep together," I asked, rather surprised.
"I really don't know," he replied. "Like I said, this is their private area, and I don't ever come in here much."
"They do have . . . ." I started the sentence but stopped.
"Sex? I guess they do, but that isn't any of my business. Or yours, either. They'll both tell you that, if you ask. I got chewed out really good by both of them a few years ago when I was really curious about what they did, and I haven't brought the subject up again, and neither have they."
"So, are they real squeamish about sex," I asked. "Talking about it, I mean."
"Not especially. The time they chewed me out came at the end of a long conversation I had with both of them about sex. I was really curious, you know, and asked them what it was like. They gave me a real thorough explanation about everything--straight, gay. You name it. Then I made the mistake of asking what they did, and that's when they jumped on me. You can't blame them, really. What two people who love one another do is their own business."
We went back to the den, and Kevin put on a CD. Then he lit up a cigarette, and I joined him.
"Do they know you smoke," I asked.
"Oh, sure. They know."
"Do you smoke in front of them?"
He looked surprised at my question. "Yeah." He said it like "why wouldn't I?"
"That'll be a big change for me. My mom and step-dad had a fit when they found out I smoke. I never smoked in front of them, though."
"Well, smoke all you want to around here," Kevin said.
There was a long pause in the conversation. Kevin looked preoccupied; then he finally said, "Do they know you're gay?"
"Who?"
"Your mom and step-dad."
"Yeah. What a shit storm that was. They caught me and my boyfriend kissing in his car in our driveway. He was dropping me off, and we were just kissing goodnight. Well, it was a little more than a quick good-night peck, but we weren't doing anything else."
"So, you have a boyfriend."
"Had," I said, emphatically. "We broke up about a month ago. That's when I started looking forward to moving here."
"Were you in love with him," Kevin asked. His question was as honest and sincere as if I had told him I had a girlfriend.
"Sort of," I replied. Then, "No, not really."
"I guess like me and Jennifer," he said. "I guess that gives us something else in common."
After another long pause, Kevin said, "I feel like doing something. You want to go for a swim?"
"Sure," I said.
"Well, let's go." He got up and walked to the French doors that opened onto the terrace. I figured his bathing suit must be in the poolhouse.
"Wait up," I said. "Let me go get on my suit."
"You don't need a suit," he said. "Nobody'll see us. I never swim in a suit in our pool, even in the day time. If some of my friends are here, we all swim naked. If girls are here, though, Frank and Denis insist we all wear suits."
I knew I'd see Kevin naked eventually, but I wasn't prepared for it that soon. I figured I'd get a boner and embarrass the shit out of myself. As it was, I was a little aroused from just looking at him fully clothed.
"Come on, bro. What are you waiting for?"
"Er, . . . ."
"Is there something we need to talk about," Kevin asked.
"Er, yeah."
He sat back down. "So, what is it?"
"It's about swimming without suits."
"No problem. Wear one if you don't want me to see you naked. But you gotta know that it's gonna happen, probably sooner than later."
"Er, I'm worried about seeing you naked."
He laughed. "That won't embarrass me, man. I get naked around guys all the time. Every day, in fact. I've done a lot of growing in every department. My cock doesn't look like it did when we were eleven."
He wasn't getting my point, so I knew I was going to have to be more direct.
"Kevin, the fact is, you're just about the most gorgeous guy I've ever seen." He blushed a little when I said that, but he didn't respond otherwise. This was getting harder than I thought it would be. "Look, I'm gay, and I'm horny. I've been half hard since I saw you at the airport, and you've had your clothes on. When I see you naked, I just know I'll. . . ."
"Pop a woody," he asked, grinning.
"Well, yeah."
"Is that all? So what? I've seen guys hard before. Hell, I've gotten hard in a shower room full of guys. That shit happens. Nobody thinks anything of that."
"Did the other guys tease you when that happened?"
"Hell, yeah. I just told them to either fuck off or suck me off. It was their call."
I was getting harder by the second. "What did they do?"
"They laughed. That was it. So, come on, let's go. Who knows, I might even get hard myself." We both laughed, but I was hoping it would happen.
We went outside, and huge spotlights came on all over the place. That startled me, and I made a noise. Kevin laughed. "There are motion detectors that are part of the security system," he explained. "You'll get used to it." He walked over to a control panel on the side of the poolhouse and punched in some numbers. "If the lights go on and we don't deactivate the alarm in three minutes, the security guys show up. I'm gonna have to teach you all the weird shit like that about this place."
Kevin opened the pool house door and went inside. He came back a few seconds later with two towels. He went over to a table and started undressing, putting his clothes on one of the chairs. His back and butt and legs were stunning. I could tell this boy had spent a lot of time in the gym pumping iron. He had virtually no hair anywhere on his back side, and he was nicely tanned, but without a tan line. Then he turned around. God, what a sight. His abdominal muscles were clearly visible through his tight skin, and his pecs were large and perfectly proportional. There was no fat on him that I could see, and his legs were as well developed as the rest of him. His penis was enormous--six inches or more completely soft--and his testicles hung down low under it. Not only that, he wasn't circumcised, a fact I guess I once knew but had forgotten. I had seen uncut guys before, of course; a lot of the Mexicans in San Diego weren't cut. But most of them had some of the head of their cock showing. Not him. His foreskin covered everything, and it even hung down a half inch or so below the end of his cock. Oh, my God! His abundant pubic hair was a kind of dark blond color, and he had the classic line of hair up to his navel. Otherwise, he was hairless except for his underarms. The big surprise, though, was the gold ring that pierced his left nipple.
The sight was too much for me, and I sat down. My erection poked up a tent in the front of my shorts, but I was too busy taking him in to care, at that point.
"You gonna get undressed, or am I gonna have to rip those nice clothes off your ass," he said--jokingly, I hoped.
"I can't, Kevin," I said. "Look at this." I pointed to my crotch.
"Yeah. I noticed. Let me see it."
What a dilemma. I wanted to get naked and throw myself into his arms, but I was scared to death. The nervousness I'd experienced at the airport returned in spades. He walked over to me and stood inches from my chair. His penis was right at eye level. There were thick, dark veins that ran down it and stood out from the rest of it. I had seen pictures of dicks like that on the Internet, and they always made me hot. Here was only inches from my face. Not only that, the head of his cock was much larger than the shaft. A lot of guys who aren't circumcised seemed to have smaller heads than shafts, but it was just the opposite with Kevin.
"Make me hard," he said.
I wasn't sure I'd heard him right. "What did you say," I asked.
"I said, make me hard. Give me a hard-on so you won't be the only one. Touch it. You know you want to, and I want you to. Don't you want to see what it looks like when it gets hard? Don't you wonder whether the head will come out?" He grinned mischievously.
I was paralyzed. I wanted to grab it and rub it and then suck it for the rest of the night. When I didn't move, Kevin took my hand and put it on his cock. It somehow felt different from mine or Paul's, the only other guy whose equipment I had ever touched.
"Play with it a little. It'll get hard. I guarantee it. Rub my skin back and forth over the head."
I was breathing so hard I was almost panting, and my heart sounded like a jackhammer in my ears. I kind of squeezed it a little, but that's all. Kevin brushed my hand away and started working on it himself. He also started rubbing his left nipple, and, in seconds, his dick started to grow. In a matter of moments, he stood there with an eight or nine inch cock at full arousal. The head was still completely covered, but I could see the slit. Even it was bigger than any I had seen. He looked down at me and smiled.
"All right. Let me see yours." He started taking off my tee shirt as I sat there helplessly. When he got it over my head, he took my hand and stood me up. He unbuckled my belt, undid the top button of my shorts, and, very carefully, he pulled down the zipper. My shorts fell to the ground. My cock was really tenting out my briefs. He carefully lowered those and pulled my deck shoes off me. There I stood--fully naked and hard as a fence post. There he stood in the same condition.
"Your cock's a little smaller than mine," he said, "but it's thick and nicely shaped." That was pretty charitable of him because my cock, at barely six inches, rock solid hard, was a good bit smaller than his.
He looked into my eyes and smiled gently. Then he put his fist around my dick and started stroking it.
"Is what I'm doing okay with you," he asked softly.
I still couldn't speak, but I had the presence of mind to nod. Without letting go, he moved around behind me and pressed his hard-on against the crack of my ass. Then he put his left arm around me and started rubbing my nipple. Imperceptibly at first, then with a little more force, he started rubbing up against me.
"You like what I'm doing, don't you," he whispered. My only response was a moan of pleasure.
Then he started thrusting against me faster and harder. I didn't know where to concentrate my attention--on my cock, my ass, or my nipple. Neither of us lasted too much longer. I came first in a violent orgasm, and Kevin came a few seconds later. Before I could even begin to recover from the power of my climax, he spun me around and kissed me passionately on the lips. He was an experienced kisser, that was for sure, and his tongue did wonderful things in my mouth. We were both still fully erect, and our cocks rubbed against one another. He started a gentle thrusting motion, and I was able to join him in it this time. We lasted longer that time than we had the first, and we both came in violent orgasms at the same time. Kevin seemed to buck involuntarily as he dumped his load on my stomach and groin. My cum splashed all over him, too, and the warmth and slipperiness of it felt wonderful.
He held on to me for a while longer. Then he pushed me back and scooped up most of the cum that was on my front. He slung it into the grass. Then he did the same thing to himself. Finally, he turned me around and got rid of the cum that was on my back and ass. He used one of the towels to fully dry both of us off.
"Let's sit down and rest," he said. He went into the pool house and brought out two icy beers. He got his cigarettes and lighter from his clothes and then sat on a lounge.
"Come sit with me," he said. He moved over to make room for me on the lounge, and I snuggled in beside him. He gave me a beer and a cigarette, and lit one for himself.
"So how was I," he asked.
I grinned and chuckled a little. "Fabulous."
"You weren't so bad either, guy," he said, grinning at me. Hell, I hadn't done a thing but not pass out at the sheer pleasure of it all.
We drank our beers and smoked our cigarettes in silence. I was preoccupied with what had just happened, and I suspected Kevin was, too. I wondered if this was the beginning of something or simply his way of showing me he accepted me. He broke the silence.
"Did you notice the ring in my nipple?"
"Yeah. That kind of blew my mind when I saw it. But, then again, seeing all of you blew my mind. Tell me about it."
"I got it last November right before our last football game. One of the guys on the team came across a Web site on piercing, and one of the things it said was that Roman soldiers had their left nipples pierced as a sign of bravery. He suggested we do it to show how brave we would be in the upcoming game. So one day after school a couple of days later, six of us went down to the French Quarter and had it done."
"Did it hurt?"
"A little, but not nearly as much as I thought it would. It didn't bleed much, either, which surprised the hell out of me."
"What's it feel like now," I asked. "I mean, are you aware of it?"
"Sometimes I'm aware of it, but not usually. One thing, though, is that it's made both my nipples super sensitive. Are your nipples sensitive?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, like, if you rub 'em or pinch 'em, do you get hard?" Before I could answer, he reached over and started working my right nipple, and my cock started responding. "Yeah, I see you are," he said, grinning. "Most guys' nipples are sensitive, but some aren't. Anyway, now mine feel like they're hard-wired straight to my cock. If I've got a pack of cigarettes in the pocket of a tee shirt, that little bit of pressure makes me about half hard. Go ahead and see what I mean."
I reached over for his nipple with the ring in it and rubbed it gently. He was hard in seconds, and the head of his cock remained more fully covered than it had before. Seeing that, and feeling his hand working mine, made me hard, too.
"If you keep doing that," he said, "I'll come in a few minutes. Will you?"
"I've never come just by playing with my nipples. I wouldn't mind trying, though."
He laughed. "Okay, you're on."
We kept up the nipple play, and, before long, the head of his cock was almost visible. He reached down and pulled the foreskin back, exposing the enormous head for me. I knew he was about to shoot. I wasn't anywhere close, though. My nipples are sensitive, but not like his. In a few more minutes, he stiffened beside me and started bucking involuntarily. Then his cock got thicker and the head seemed to get much larger, and he squirted out five or six ribbons of cum. He stopped playing with me during his orgasm. Once he had recovered, though, he went back to work. Still, nothing happened.
"I guess yours aren't sensitive enough to make you come," he said. "So I'll have to resort to my other weapon." With that he took my cock in his hand and started rubbing it. Then he made me open my legs a little so he could get to my ball sack. Using the flattened palm of his hand, he very gently stroked my balls and cock, as it lay flat on my stomach. It felt better than a standard handjob, and in a few seconds I was writhing in pleasure. I didn't come right away, though, as I thought I would. Instead, the pleasure continued, and even grew more intense, for a longer time than I usually take to get off. He stuck the long finger of his other hand at the spot right in front of my anus, and the pleasure quadrupled. Finally, when the blast came, he pressed my balls up into my body, and the sensation was like nothing I'd ever known from masturbating.
"Whooooooaaaaaaaa," I gasped. When I recovered enough to speak, I said, "How'd you do that? That was soooo much better than a standard jerk-off."
"I know," he said. "That's the way I jerk off sometimes. It's really cool, isn't it?"
"I'll say it's cool."
"Did it feel really intense when I touched you near your asshole?"
"God, yeah. I've never felt anything like that before. What did you do?"
"I found your G-spot."
I wanted more information, but I didn't want to appear ignorant. I vaguely remembered reading about the G-spot, and I'd spent some time one afternoon looking for mine. I had dismissed it as a myth, as some experts said it was. Little did they know.
Kevin wiped us both off with the towel, which must have been getting pretty thick by then.
"You know what," he asked.
"No, what," I replied.
"I'm hot as hell."
"You don't have to tell me, dude. And you make me pretty hot, too."
"So why don't we get up and get in the pool?"
I laughed.
"What's so funny," he asked.
"It's just that I misunderstood what you were talking about. I thought you meant you were hot sexually. But you were talking about just being hot."
He laughed then at my misunderstanding.
"Oh, I'm pretty hot the other way, too," he said with a grin. "But sitting this close to you is making me sweat."
We got in the pool and fooled around a while.
After twenty minutes or so in the water, I asked if he would mind if we got out. He said he was ready, too. He got another fresh towel from the pool house for me, and he used the unsoiled one he had brought out earlier. When we were through drying off, he put all three towels, along with the empty beer bottles and the contents of the ashtray, into the pool house. I figured they had some system worked out about how to deal with that kind of thing. He gathered up his clothes, cigarettes, and lighter, and started back into the house naked. I figured he might have something else in mind, so I did the same. Once inside, though, he put his clothes back on, so I followed his lead.
"You want something to drink," he asked.
"A Coke would be good," I said.
"I'm having scotch, if you want that. Or anything else in the liquor line."
"I'll try some scotch," I said. "I've never had hard liquor before."
He looked a little surprised. Then he said, "In that the case, you might want to try something like bourbon and Coke or bourbon and 7-Up. You might not like the scotch. You can taste mine, though, and see if you like it."
"Surprise me," I said.
In a minute, he was back with a bourbon and 7-Up for me and a scotch and water for himself. I tasted my drink, and it was pretty good. Then I tasted his, and I knew I'd have some drinking practice to put in before I wanted any of that stuff.
We took seats at right angles to one another, me on a sofa and him in an easy chair. We both lit up
"I had fun tonight," he said. "It's gonna be great having you here."
"I did, too," I said. "I'm kind of glad our dads aren't here. This way we can get reacquainted without them in the way."
"I was thinking the same thing. I would have felt kind of awkward doing what we did tonight with them in here watching TV."
We both laughed.
After a pause, I said, "Did you enjoy what we did out there tonight? I damn sure did."
"Fuckin'-aye I enjoyed it. I love sex."
"I kind of got that impression," I said. "And you're good at it, too."
"Thanks, Matt. You ain't bad." He grinned at me.
"You'd done some of that stuff before, though, hadn't you?"
"Well, yeah, I guess I had," he said. "I lied to you before. I've had sex with guys. Not too many, though; mostly with my friend Dave. And a few others. I guess I first made it with Dave when I was twelve. My first girl was when I was thirteen."
"Which do you like better? Girls or guys?"
"Well, I've had sex with a bunch of girls but only a few guys. It may be premature for me to say."
"Good point, but, as far as I'm concerned, I'm the only guy you'll ever need."
I didn't realize it before I said it, but that was a really loaded statement. Kevin's face showed that he was really reflecting on what I had just said. Finally, after a long pause, he said, "Look, Matt, I've loved you since we were eight years old. I know I was a sorry shit about not writing, but my mailbox was exactly brimming over, either."
We both smiled at that. The fact was, we hadn't exchanged a word in all the years we hadn't seen one another.
"You are a very cool guy, and I want to explore more sex with you."
My heart skipped a beat when he said that.
"But what we did tonight didn't make me want to give up on pussy, either."
We were both silent for a few moments. I knew I was pretty close to falling in love with this guy, but I also knew it might take him some time to get to that point with me, if he ever did. I had read plenty on the Internet about straight guys who liked a little man-to-man sex once in a while, and Kevin might just be one of them. I knew I shouldn't count my chickens before they hatched.
"Speaking of pussy," he said, "have you ever been laid?"
"No. I've never been interested, so I've never made the opportunity."
"Would you like to try it?"
"Not really. I know what I am, Kevin, and it's gay. I've always known it. At least since I reached puberty and started thinking about sex."
"How many boyfriends have you had?"
"Just one. A boy named Paul."
"So why did you guys break up?"
"Oh, I don't know. He started acting really effeminate and started insisting we come out to the whole school. I wasn't ready for that. Plus, I knew I was moving here right after school was out, and I wasn't really in love with him. That kind of stuff. Finally, one night at his house, while his parents were out and we were there by ourselves, we had it out. I'm the one who broke it off. He's probably telling everybody he sees that I'm queer, but I don't really care."
"Your mom and step-dad weren't supportive, I guess."
"Shit, no, man. They hate gay people worse than anybody I've ever known. The kids at school would have been more supportive than them."
"See," he said, "if I came out tomorrow, I know Frank and Denis would be there for me."
"Why do you call your dad by his first name," I asked.
"Well, I don't in public, when people know I'm his son. But I consider them both fathers to me, and they both consider me their son. I guess you know my mother's dead. Breast cancer before Frank and Denis got together. Those guys are my parents. But it would be wrong for me to call one 'dad' and the other 'Denis.' So we hit on my using both their first names. They'll want you to do the same thing. That was one of the things they told me to talk to you about."
"That makes sense, I guess. Are they pretty liberal about things?"
"Well, yes and no. They know I've been--what's the term when you fuck a lot?"
"Sexually active?"
"Yeah. They know I've been sexually active for a good while, but there's a strict rule about bringing girls home for the night. Now, I've fucked more than one girl in my bedroom, but none of 'em ever spent the night. Of course, Dave and I have fucked our brains out in my room many, many times. But he's not a girl. Do we sense a double standard here?" We both laughed. "They also know that Dave and I have had sex. Just not how much."
"What about curfews and stuff like that?"
"No such thing," he said. "The only requirement is that I get good grades in school. They figure the rest will take care of itself. I have been out all night a bunch of times, usually with Dave, or a girl, somewhere. But they want me to be responsible for my own life. I play football and baseball. Those are pretty demanding physically, and I can't stay out all night very often and keep up with them. Also, the school I go to is very demanding. It's the school Frank went to, and it's the school my grandfather and great-grandfather went to. They don't put up with shit from anybody. It's put up, shut up, or get the fuck out. The same thing holds true about drinking and smoking."
"Will I be going there? Your school, I mean," I asked. Apparently there were traditions and rules I knew nothing about.
"Colton doesn't take guys after the freshman year. They want you the full time. I started there in the sixth grade, as most of my classmates did. That's really what they prefer. No, you'll be going to a school called Newton Prep. They're our biggest rivals, and it's a damn fine school."
I was really disappointed. I wanted to go to Kevin's school. "Well, that sucks," I said.
"Not really. You'd be an outcast at Colton. There are a hundred guys in my class, and eighty of us have been together since the sixth grade. The twenty new guys still don't fit in all that well, even after three years. You'd be miserable there. Newton, on the other hand, has a larger student body, it's co-ed, and they have new people coming in at every grade, every year."
"So, what? Nobody ever moves away from Colton?"
"I don't think so," he said. "Nobody in my class has, anyway. We start with eighty guys in the sixth grade every year, we pick up twenty more freshman year, and we have a hundred graduates every year. I guess nobody moves. Or if their parents do, they make arrangements for their kids to stay behind and finish school."
"You said Newton's co-ed. Colton isn't," I asked.
"No. Colton is all boys. That's why it's so fucking hard to meet girls. You remember my telling you about my nipple ring before the last game this year? Well, it was against Newton. Our last game and their last game is always between us. We beat them this year, but that was the first time in three years. Like I said, Newton is a tough fucking school. You ready for another drink?"
"Yeah, I could use one," I said. I thought about everything Kevin had said about school. If something did develop between us romantically, at least we wouldn't have to worry about hiding our feelings about one another at school. That had been the major problem with Paul. On the other hand, I'd only see him outside of school. That wouldn't be that big a problem, though, I guessed, since we would be actually living together.
Kevin came back in with drinks and a can of mixed nuts. It was just about midnight, and Kevin yawned.
"You tired," I asked.
"A little. I didn't get up until noon today, though. You must be really tired."
"Not really. I'm still on California time, so it's only ten o'clock by my biological clock." After a pause, I picked up the conversation.
"You don't seem depressed like you were this afternoon," I said.
"I'm not. I shouldn't have been then, either. I was ready to move on from her. It's just that I'm the one who usually breaks up with girls. I guess my male ego got a little bruised."
"Have you had a lot of girlfriends?"
"Really, just three that I've been with more than six months. Jennifer and I dated for about six months."
"You just turned eighteen--when?"
"In May. May 25th."
"So, how'd you date before you could drive? I mean, I guess it's possible, but . . .."
"I got my regular license when I turned fifteen. That's the minimum age in this state. Some places it's eighteen. That must really be a bummer."
"That's what it is in California, unless you can show some compelling reason you need one at sixteen--like having a job, or something. Most people get jobs just so they can get their licenses."
"You got yours," he asked.
"Yeah, but I had to lie to get it. They wouldn't let me have a job or a license, so I got a friend to say he was my step-father. He signed for me. He was only eighteen."
We both laughed at the stupidity of the whole thing.
Again, a pause.
"So, you said you started having sex when you were twelve. That's pretty young, isn't it?"
"That was jerk-off and suck-off shit with Dave. Girls came later."
"You told me, I know, but I don't remember what you said."
"Well, I got laid when I was thirteen. Like maybe a dozen times with the same girl. She was my first girlfriend. I had my second girlfriend for about a year and a half, and we started fucking almost right away. She was two years older than me, and she already had a car when we met. She and I broke up last October, and I met Jennifer around Thanksgiving. I started doing her in January. So, really, I guess we were together for more than six months. Christ, I had forgotten about that. I even gave her a six-month anniversary present." We both laughed. I knew he was over her.
"Are those the only three girls you've made it with," I asked. I realized I was being very nosey, but his sex life fascinated me.
"Aw, hell, no. I haven't kept a list, but I'd say it was probably ten, twelve. Maybe a few more." Pause. "I ought to make a list. My best friend--Dave--keeps a journal of every time he has sex. He writes down the date, time, location, the name, and what they did. He's two years older than I am, but I don't think he's ahead of me in the sex department."
"You and Dave have made it, you said," I asked.
"Yeah. You know."
"Is it bothering you to talk about this," I asked. I didn't think it was, but I wanted to be polite, especially after what he said about Frank and Denis' reluctance to talk about their sex life together.
He took a pull on his scotch and lit up a Marlboro. Then he said, "No. I kind of like it, in fact. It's starting to make me a little hard."
"So what did you guys do," I persisted.
"Dave's uncle has a pretty good collection of videos--pornos. One time we were at his house watching some, and he popped in an all-guy flick. The blowjobs really looked good, so we tried it. Then he wanted to try ass fucking, so we did."
"Once, or more than once."
"Quite a few times. I think Dave is probably gay, but he's so far from being able to admit that to himself that it'll be another twenty years before he does. He knocks off pussy like it's going out of style, but I really think he's gay. When we do that stuff, he always says he just wants to know what the other side knows that he doesn't. He means gay guys. But he really gets into it. He's made it with other guys, too."
"When was the last time you and Dave did anything?"
"Oh, it's been. . .maybe a couple of weeks when he was home for Spring Break."
"Do you enjoy what you and Dave do," I asked, pressing the limits.
"Did it look like I enjoyed what you and I did?"
I laughed. "Well said."
After a short pause, he said, "All right. I told you about me. Now tell me about you. What have you done?"
"Well, Paul's the only one I've done anything with, except myself--and you tonight, of course. We were friends for a long time. Finally I got up the courage to ask him if he was gay. The funniest thing happened. He started crying. I thought, oh, shit, I've really hurt his feelings, but then he said he was just so glad I finally asked him. 'Yes,' he said. 'I'm gay. I didn't want to tell you because I was afraid you'd stop being my friend. But you must have figured it out.' Well, I told him I thought I was gay, too. I knew I was gay, but I hadn't really been with anybody, so I didn't want to sound too experienced or anything. That first night we slept together nude, and mostly we just kissed and rubbed against each other. We ended up jerking each other off, though. We got as far as sucking each other's cocks."
"So did you guys ever fuck," Kevin wanted to know.
I shook my head no.
"Did you ever want to?"
"I did," I said, "but Paul didn't. I think he was afraid it would hurt him or me, or both. Did it hurt when you and Dave did it? The first time, I mean."
"Not really," he said. "We lubed up real good and took it slow. He seemed to know what to do, and I suspected I wasn't his first."
"So you take his cock in your ass?"
"Yeah. And he takes mine, too."
"Which do you like better," I asked. We were way beyond the lines of discretion I would have had with anybody else. The alcohol didn't hurt to loosen my tongue--and Kevin's, too, I suspected--but I also felt completely at home with that boy. There was a genuineness and innocence about him that put me fully at ease.
"I really liked 'em both about the same. It's really something havin' a cock up your chute. There's a spot that it touches inside that drives me fucking crazy, it feels so good."
"That's your prostate. Sometimes I stick my finger up my ass and massage it when I jerk off. It felt like that tonight when you found my G-spot, only a little different. You ever do that?"
"All the fuckin' time, since Dave showed me how. We even bought butt plugs. I wore mine a couple of times when I was really horny. After I've had that thing in me for a couple of hours, I come like a motherfucker when I jerk off."
Both of us were fully hard by that point in the conversation, and Kevin started playing with his boner. He put his hand up under his tee shirt, and I knew he was playing with his right nipple, too.
"You'd like to do something right now, wouldn't you," I asked.
He looked at me with what must have been lust in his eyes. "Yeah," he said softly.
"Why don't we go upstairs," I said.
"Okay," he said softly.
We switched off lights and the stereo, and then Kevin put his arms around me. He kissed me tenderly at first, then with real passion. When we broke, he said, "Let's go," and we took off upstairs.