Prom - Chapter 12
This story is fiction. It contains some consensual teenage sexual activity. Please obey all laws that pertain to you, and don't read this if it would offend you or if you are too young to do so legally.
This story is plot and character driven and only contains sex that is appropriate to the tale. If you are reading this for its sexual content, you will probably be disappointed. You would be better off reading a different story.
Copyright 2005. All rights are exclusive to the author. This story is not to be copied, nor is it to be displayed on any other web site.
Thank you for reading this, and any comments would be appreciated. They will reach me at colepark@gmail.com I try to answer all messages.
Cole Parker
Prom
Chapter 12
We were in Adam’s room. We’d talked about the Prom, how exciting the competition was, how it felt winning it, how well he’d played, how well I’d sung, what we’d felt doing so. We both were full of energy and enthusiasm. It had been a thrilling experience and the excitement of remembering it was letting us relive it. Talking about it let us feel again the emotions we’d felt at the time.
I hadn’t brought up what I’d felt dancing with him in my arms at the end. I was too afraid of what the outcome of that conversation might be.
Finally we had run down, said what we needed to say, run out of things to say about it. We were both happy. And empty. I think we were both happy to be together. We’d shared the excitement of the competition and the night, shared the triumph, shared the feelings, now we were just sharing being together, and as he’d said, it felt good. To me, it also felt right. There was a bittersweet quality to it, too, underneath everything else, knowing the intimacy of the moment was the only kind of intimacy I’d ever really share with him. But it was still wonderful, just being with him, and I’d been training myself not to want what I couldn’t have.
He asked if I wanted to play a video game. I really didn’t. I didn’t know what I felt like, but it wasn’t that. I asked him if he was too keyed up to go to bed. Somehow, even though I didn’t feel sleepy, I knew I wanted to go to bed. I knew I wanted it be in bed with him. Just to be there. Even though we wouldn’t be holding each other, there was still a feeling of shared intimacy, being in bed with him, and what I really wanted right now was that feeling.
“No, bed’s fine with me. It’s really late. You ready for bed?”
“Yeah, I am. I’m ready for a shower, too. You want to go first?”
“No, go ahead. While you’re showering, I’ll get us some ice cream. That OK?”
“Sounds great.”
I looked into his closet and grabbed the robe I’d used the first time I’d slept over, then went into the bathroom. I thought of leaving the door open a little, then realized it would be tacky and closed it firmly. I had to get a grip. I so wanted to fool around with Adam it was driving me crazy, but I had to get control. I didn’t want to seduce him. What I wanted was for him to want me. I couldn’t make that happen. And if I didn’t want to ruin a friendship, I had to not try.
Knowing that intellectually was one thing, my body and desires accepting it was quite another. But I simply had to.
By the time I was out of the shower and dried and robed, Adam had carried the ice cream up to the room. He’d scooped three scoops into each of two bowls and also brought along some toppings. He had both chocolate and butterscotch sauces, chopped nuts, maraschino cherries, a can of pressurized whipping cream and some colorful candy sprinkles. We both sat down and made ourselves sundaes, using everything he’d brought.
We chatted about the couples at the Prom and how they’d looked and acted together while we ate. We ended up laughing a lot. We still didn’t talk about the last dance.
When Adam finished, he headed for the shower. I took the opportunity to put on a fresh pair of boxers.
I heard the shower go off. A couple minutes later, Adam opened the door, dressed in his robe, and asked if I wanted to brush my teeth. I took him up on it and walked into the bathroom, where he was putting toothpaste on his brush. I did the same, and we stood together by the sink, brushing. I had no idea why, but for some reason, I began to get hard. Maybe it was the intimate domesticity of the situation, I don’t know, but within a few seconds I had a raging erection. Only the copious folds of the robe saved me from stultifying embarrassment.
We both spat and rinsed. We grinned at each other. Then we went to bed.
We lay on our backs, about a foot apart, like last time. I could feel tension. Mine was from wanting Adam in my arms so much it hurt. Adam’s, I didn’t know where it was coming from, but I could feel it in the way he was just lying there, stiff and silent. Perhaps he could sense mine, too. Perhaps he had an idea of where mine was coming from and he didn’t know how to respond to that. Maybe he realized how easily he could hurt me and didn't know what to say. Or, I supposed I could be imagining it all.
“Greg?” he asked me softly, hesitation and nervousness shading his voice. It was fitting, I thought, for him to speak first. He always had been the bolder of the two of us.
“Yeah?”
“Earlier tonight? When you guys came to the front door, and I opened it for you?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you remember what you were thinking when I stepped outside to greet you?”
I thought back. I remembered climbing the stoop, ringing the bell, Adam answering the door almost immediately. Then, I remembered what I felt when I saw him, so stunningly gorgeous in his white dinner jacket and complementing slacks and accessories. I remembered looking at him in awe. I remembered him looking back at me. I remembered him blushing and looking away.
“Yes. I remember.”
“Can you tell me what you were thinking?”
“It’ll embarrass both of us if I do.”
“I don’t care. I want to know. And tell me the truth. I think we need to talk about things, but it won't work unless we both tell the truth.”
OK, I could deal with that. I guessed. It was going to be hard, but this whole thing was hard, and I was ready for things, I needed things, to get easier, one way or the other.
“Adam, I don’t think you have any idea how handsome you are, but when I looked at you, I was stunned. You were gorgeous. Then I looked in your eyes, and what I saw in them was just as beautiful as how you looked on the outside. I shouldn’t say all this, but you asked, and that’s what I was thinking.”
Adam tentatively reached his hand over to me and rested it on my naked shoulder. A slight tremble passed through my body at his touch. Neither of us said anything for a couple minutes, just laid there like that, nether of us wanting to upset the moment.
Then it was my turn to get a question answered I’d been thinking about.
“Adam, what were you thinking when, after I looked at you at the door, you blushed and looked down?”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
I thought for a minute. “No, I’m not sure I want to, I’m scared thinking what the answer might be, but I need to know. I really need to know.”
Adam paused, and the silence hung heavy in the room. Finally, he spoke, his voice a little shakier than it had been. “Greg, you have very expressive eyes. When you saw me come out of the house, when you looked at me, what you were thinking seemed very clear to me. I could see you liked the way I was dressed, how I looked. But I saw a lot more than that in your eyes. You were looking at me something like the way my mother looks at me. You were looking at me like you loved me.”
My heart was in my throat. I was scared. Had he really seen that? What should I say? What could I say? I started to panic and then, suddenly, I realized something. I realized his hand was still on my shoulder! If he thought he saw love in my eyes, if that bothered him, if that repulsed him, would he be in bed with me, touching me?
But this was crazy! He’d made it clear he wasn’t gay. So what did this mean? Maybe it simply meant he wasn’t gay, but he had no problem with me being gay. Although, while a lot of kids accepted friends who had different sexualities, I hadn’t read about very many straight guys that so easily accepted a friend being gay who was in love with them. That usually created tension and problems. Still, I had to know.
“Adam, what if that were so? How would you feel? Would it make a difference to you?”
“Greg, can you tell me first, before I answer? Please? What you feel for me?”
He already knew I loved him. I was sure of that. Why did he want me to say it? I didn’t know, but the hand on my shoulder was very reassuring. Well, I’d told Tim and there were no repercussions. In fact, things had become even better for us. It was even more important to me now that Adam could accept me and althought telling him was as frightening a thing as I'd ever done, I couldn’t lie to his direct question.
“All right, Adam. You asked. I’ll tell you. I can’t keep it in any more. I’m gay. I love you so much it’s hard to breathe when I’m around you. Lying here in bed with you and not touching you is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I want to roll over and hold you like I did before so badly I might cry. I’m probably scaring the crap out of you saying this, but what I feel for you has been wanting to burst out of me long enough now that this doesn’t just feels right, finally letting it loose, it feels like if I didn’t say something soon, I’d explode. I know you don’t feel this way for me, and you can trust me not to do anything about this, or to embarrass you. If you want me to sleep on the floor tonight, just say so. You’re so important to me, the thought of losing your friendship terrifies me. I’d never do anything to jeopardize that.” When I finished, there were tears in my eyes and in my voice.
As I’d been speaking, Adam had been gripping my shoulder tighter and tighter. Now he asked a question I wasn’t expecting.
“Why are you so sure I’m not gay?”
“What do you mean? You TOLD me you weren’t! You’ve told me that several times already.”
“Greg, when I first said that, I was just getting to know you. When I got to know you better, guess what, I started falling for you, really hard. Then, when being gay was brought up again, I didn’t want to say anything that would make you pull away from me, I had no idea you were gay and I had no idea you felt that way about me too. So I kept saying I wasn’t gay so you wouldn’t start hating me.”
“So you ARE gay?”
“I don’t know. Believe it or not, I haven’t thought about it that much. It’s never been important to me before. Whatever I am, I’m comfortable with it and never have felt the need to classify or label it. But, what I do know is, I’m head over heels in love with you. It’s all I can do to keep my hands off you. Half the time I’m with you, I’m trying to keep my hard-ons under control. I can’t believe you never noticed.
I was struck dumb. I couldn’t believe it. Suddenly, it was like the pressure I’d been living with for weeks had been released, like the sun had come out and everything was warm and bright. I realized I was still lying on my back, that same foot of space still separating us. I immediately rolled over to him and grasped him in a tight hug. He hugged me back just as tightly. His heart began racing, just as mine was.
“Adam, Adam, Adam,” I panted breathlessly. I began kissing his face, his neck, anything I could reach, passionately. He was squirming and laughing, but still holding me tightly, as though I might disappear if he let go. I was laughing, too, and there were also tears in my eyes. I felt deliriously happy.
“Greg, I’ve wanted to do this for so long. When you held me last time we were in bed, I was just coming to realize how much I loved you. You holding me was heaven and hell all rolled into one. I wanted so much more, but what I had, your arms around me, was wonderful. I was hard as a rock and was afraid if I moved any, you’d find out.”
“Really!? I was too! You were so close to bumping into it, I was in a panic! But, you just fell asleep!”
“I guess I was exhausted, both from the excitement of what we’d done and the emotions I was feeling being with you and having your arms around me. But you were hard, too?”
“Right next to your butt! I was sure you’d feel it. I was wondering how to explain. There’s no way to explain that.”
We were tightly clinging to each other, face to face. Neither one of us were trying to hide how we were at the moment. I could feel him, I was sure he could feel me. It felt fantastic. A weight had been lifted. I could talk to him, touch him. Sharing everything that happened at our Prom together was nothing compared to this. This was unbelievable, after all this time of hiding my feelings, of pretending, to be able to be real, to do and say what I wanted to.
I pulled my head back, away from his neck where it was buried. When he felt me do that, he did the same thing. I looked into his eyes, his deep, beautiful blue eyes. All I saw there was love. I moved forward. I kissed him.
His lips were soft and warm and perfect. I held the soft kiss without moving for a minute, him doing the same. Then I puffed out my lips and began feeling more of his with mine. His mouth opened very slightly and I could feel the tip of his tongue poking through, just barely tracing the edges of my lips. He got more adventuresome and pushed his tongue a little into my mouth.
I’d never made out with anyone. I know, I know, I was 15. At 15 you’re supposed to have made out, have had some experiences. I knew a few guys who’d already had sex with girls, and I don’t just mean oral sex. They’d gone all the way, and not just once. They made sure people knew it, too. Well, I hadn’t done that. I wasn’t interested in girls and I had been keeping my secret, so I simply hadn’t had any experiences at all. With anyone. So, this was my first time. And the emotions, the feelings, were almost too much. It probably made a difference that I was doing this with someone I loved, someone I’d been longing for, but I didn’t know if that were true or not. I just knew what we were doing was overwhelming.
I pulled away so I could breathe. Adam was staring at me with a look I’d never seen. His eyes were slightly closed and looked glassy. It suddenly came to me what I was seeing. Lust.
Well, one thing I was sure about, he didn’t want me any more than I wanted him. I started running my hands down his naked chest, and he immediately began squirming. I kept going lower till I reached the elastic on his boxers. This was exciting, and my heart was pounding. When I traced along the top of the elastic, tickling both the cloth and his skin at the same time, a little whimper escaped from him. Taking that for approval, I gently slipped my fingers under the elastic.
As I slowly worked my way further down, I came to his hair. It was normal for a 15-year-old, not heavy, but not sparse either. It was soft and curly, and I rubbed a few hairs between my fingers, then tugged them very gently. This was all brand new to me, but that somehow seemed right. He must of thought so too and he softly moaned.
I moved lower and felt the base of his very hard cock. It was a little larger around than I would have expected, a little broader than mine. I grasped it, my fingers curling around it, and then I stroked it slowly, feeling its entire length. It felt soft and silky and hard and warm and rigid. I never wanted to let go. It felt about the same size as mine, but wonderfully different, too. I slowly, gently stroked it up and down. Adam began panting, then gasping.
“Greg! I’m going to come real quick if you keep doing that. Greg!”
I didn’t stop. I was loving this. Adam was sort of thrashing around on the bed, wriggling and moaning, but I had complete control of him. I kept stroking, then tightened my grip slightly and moved a little faster.
A pinched gargling noise came from Adam, and then his whole body stopped writhing and went rigid. I sped up my stroking, as I liked it when I reached orgasm, and with a gasp Adam came, hard. He shot all the way up to his chin, and then again and again. I kept stroking, staying just off the rim of his head, just brushing it with my hand on each stroke.
After six shots, Adam’s body eased down a little, and he moaned a long sigh. I stopped the fast stroking at that point, but kept stroking, just slowly and loosely and lovingly. His cock began to soften. I stopped stroking and just held it. I looked at it in my hand, still enlarged but slowly shrinking, and marveled at its beauty.
“Oh my God,” he panted. “That was, that was, I don’t know what that was. God, that was. . . .” He stopped at looked at me. “Greg, I love you. You make me feel so good. I want to do that to you, but I don’t have the energy to move!”
I laughed. I didn’t say anything for a moment. I couldn’t. I felt too good. I felt euphoric. How could everything work out just right? It was too incredible. Adam loving me? No way. I’d dreamed it, but that was a fantasy. This was no fantasy. This was real. This wasn’t one of my trances. This wasn’t me thinking too much. How did this happen? But I wasn’t going to question it. For once, I was going to enjoy it. I was going to feel it. I was going to let it happen and not worry about it or think it to death. So, I answered him.
“Just lie there. There’s no rush. We’ve got all night. I want you to touch me too. But I can wait. I think I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life.”
The End
Copyrighted music lyrics used in part in this story:
“Somewhere” Music by Leonard Bernstein; lyrics by Stephen Sondheim
“Purple People Eater” Words and music by Sheb Wooley
“Rock Around the Clock” Words and music by Freedman and de Knight