This is a work of fiction, featuring some sex between fictional teenage characers. If you're not old enough to be reading this legally or live in a place where you can't, don't. Comments, which would be greatly appreciated, should be sent to bhost@csd.net. Thanks.
Pockets Written by Mark Sohne
I was sitting across from Michael in our booth at Ruby Tuesday. This was the sixth time I had decided I was going to come out to him, but I really had a good reason for my delay. Michael's also gay, or at least that was what I thought. He had a girlfriend, but no real attraction to women, and I always had this feeling of kinship to him. I didn't think he'd ever say it out of the blue, so I was going to try to get him to speak up. He was talking about this stupid C++ programming course his parents were making him take, but I couldn't have cared less about that right then.
Before you start to suspect all the selfish, sexual motives I may have had for learning Michael's sexuality, give me a chance to convince you otherwise. My name is David Midwinter, and like Michael, I'm a senior at North Arvada High School. It's probably one of the most open-minded, diverse schools around, but I hadn't met a single other gay person in the two years since I had come out to myself. Michael had been a friend of mine for the last three years, though we really weren't that close. He was my lab partner in Advanced Placement Chemistry and sometimes we ate lunch together, but that was currently the depth of our time spent together.
So maybe I wasn't trying hard enough, or I was doing something wrong. Of course, it'd probably be a lot easier if I wasn't so nervous, but at least I was going to find out something today.
For a minute I watched Michael pick up his sandwich, considering whether or not I should really go through with it. He stood about 6'1, say 145 pounds, with dark brown hair and eyes. Michael couldn't be considered incredibly attractive, but I thought he was cute. I liked watching him.
"Hey--um--Michael? Could you--" My voice trailed off, as my tongue lost will to move.
"What?" Instead of answering, I fell silent. Again I looked like a total idiot, and I had been doing this regularly in front of him for the last couple of weeks
"I'm gay." I winced; Michael's dark brown eyes snapped to me, but he couldn't speak through a mouthful of club. Michael looked like he was terrified, as if I had claimed to be a Spice Girls fan. Of course, I backed this up another "um."
Michael chewed, swallowed, and tried to grasp some composure before he spoke. "You're gay, David?" I really thought he was going to throw up as he said that. Apparently, any suspicions I had of him being gay we're completely wrong.
"Yeah, I am."
"And why'd you tell me?"
I searched for a reply, but he cut me off. "Do you think I'm gay or something like that?"
This isn't what I wanted; I wasn't looking for a confrontation in this. "No it's not," I said. I wasn't scared, I was just worried; Michael was in a real panic. "You're just a friend of mine, and I just wanted to tell you something about me." I wasn't totally lying; I was telling him because he was a friend. But I wasn't going to tell him that I suspected he was a fag.
"Well, that's good, but I am though. I mean, I am gay," Michael said. He seemed exasperated and scared, as if he was Pandora and had just opened the box. Now Michael was stuttering, and our food was being taken away by our waiter, who seemed to regret walking in on our conversation. "And I didn't want to say anything, because I thought you had a girlfriend, and why the Hell am I even saying this here? Don't you think someone from school might hear us?"
"All right, fine. We'll talk about it outside," I said. I didn't understand why he was so freaked out. Most people thought that I had a girlfriend, a rumor I spent a long time cultivating, but I really didn't care if someone overheard me talking about any gay people, including myself. People will find out when they find out. So we talked about his girlfriend, track, and car stereo systems till the check was paid and we had our change. He was treating this as if it was my problem!
As the two of us walked through the crowded lobby I saw Michael's eyes dancing across the room, trying to see if someone suspected him. I spoke quietly to him as I stepped around a four year old girl who thought it was her right to sit in the middle of the floor. "Michael, just chill. No one knows that we're gay, and if they did they wouldn't care." He didn't respond, and walked faster through the first set of doors.
"Michael! Michael! Listen to me!"
Now into the parking lot, I was storming after him to my car . Couldn't he at least talk to me about this?
"What, David? What the Hell do you want me to do?" We were standing at the rear of the car, and Michael grabbed my left wrist. He forced my wrist behind my back, and slammed me against the trunk with a painful metallic thud. Then Michael kissed me, his lips pressed against mine and I felt my cock stiffen inside my pants. But we were in the parking lot, people were probably staring at us, and it was a cold Colorado day and I wanted to get in the car and get out of there before I even thought about trying something with him.
I pushed against Michael's grasp, sending him stumbling back. He was yelling again. "So is that what you want me to do, David? Do you want me to be your boyfriend? Do you want me to have sex with you?" Michael was standing where he had caught his balance, in a rage, and I was still against the car, dumbfounded.
"Get in the car, Michael!"
"Is that what you want me to do? Is there something you even want from me, or is this just some game to you, seeing if you could get me to come out?"
"I said to get in the car!" I moved away from the trunk, got in the car, and started the engine. Why was he being such a jerk to me? I hadn't done anything to him! "Now, Michael!" He got in the car and I drove him home. Neither of us spoke along the way.
Sweating and tired, I stepped out of the weight room. I walked into the bathroom, taking in and releasing a deep breath. Lifting helped me blow some stress, but I was still wound up from what had happened with Michael. Looking in the mirror, I liked what I was starting to see in the mirror. I was 6'3, weighing about 156 pounds, with muscles developing across my chest and arms. My medium length blond hair was a mess from my workout, and my blue eyes looked so tired. Narcissistically I ran hand down my smooth chest, hairless between bushes of light brown hair in my armpits and by my genitals.
The ringing of the doorbell knocked me out of my trance, and I quickly yelled "in a minute" in the direction of the door. My dad would be in Ireland on business for the next two weeks and my mom had died when I was young; no one else was there to answer. I scrambled down the stairs with glasses in hand, heading for the door.
It was Michael I saw when I swung open the door.
"Hi David, you look nice."
My first instinct was to punch Michael in the face for the way he was acting.
I really shouldn't follow my instincts so often. Michael had been hit in his right eye, and he couldn't see out of it. His arm reaching across my back for support, I helped him across to the couch. He sat there with his hand clenched loosely against his injured eye, and for a moment I stood by, towering over him, and watched him.
"You deserved that, y'know," I said. Then I ran back up the stairs, slipped into a plain black t-shirt, and yanked an old gray shirt out of the closet. In the kitchen I filled it with ice and formed it into a pack which I slapped into Michael's outstretched hand when I returned.
"I know," said Michael as I plopped down on the floor, against the oak entertainment center.
"You know what?"
"I mean I know I deserved that," Michael said, "and I know I shouldn't have acted like I did at the restaurant.
So--um--how'd I kiss?"
Michael laughed when he said this. I didn't laugh or speak. I walked over to him, knelt down in front of him, and removed the ice pack from his eye. Then I took his wrists in my hands, held them behind his head, and made eye contact with him, starring at the black buttons, floating in the muddy pool, enveloped by a field of white that gave him vision. I moved my lips in near his, observed his lowering eyelids ... and swiftly moved my lips over his.
"Worse than I do," I said as I let go of his wrists and backed away. Then I smiled when I saw the massive hardon in his pants. This relieved some of the sexual tension in the room, at least for the next few hours we spent talking. It didn't relieve the sex, or the tension in the relationship that followed.
When Michael fought with, and kissed me at Ruby Tuesday, he had already accepted the fact that he was gay, but he didn't understand how exactly it was going to affect the rest of his life. And he had been attracted to me for a while, but he wasn't quite sure what he should do about it. His parents didn't believe him when he came out to them, dismissing it as part of the frat boyish sense of humor their genius son had always shown. And our kissing in the parking lot? Everyone knew it was just Michael's wild sense of humor.
As for our kissing, our dating, and that early, first night where we passionately made love like tigers till the dawn, falling asleep on the wooden floor in each other's arms? No one knew about it. Now Michael was the most important man in my life - he was still my lab partner, but also my boyfriend, my lover, and my best friend. Three and a half months passed, us together the whole time, and then I was kneeling in front of Michael again. I wasn't giving him a blowjob, that would be nothing.
He stammered and I stumbled through the exchange. And when I finally had the steel ring on his finger, we were engaged. Still, no one else really knew about us.
When I approached my Saturn on April Fool's Day, I saw Morgan leaning against the hood. Morgan is 5'3, I tower over her, and she can be best described as looking impish. She was the Coeditor - in - Chief of the newspaper, along with me, and no one had any idea what was going on between us. Our regular diatribe consisted of "I hate you" and "I love you like a friend."
"I love you David Midwinter," said Morgan. I looked down at her flashed a cocky smile that I always used with girls. It always got me a smirk from Morgan.
"Are you going to Prom with me, David," Morgan said. I saw Michael in the side mirror, running up behind me.
"Come on Morgan, our boy David here is grade A mongrel," joked Michael," he'd go with anything that walks erect!"
"You know that from experience, Michael," I retorted. Morgan was ignoring Michael."
"I dunno, Morgan, are we going?" I continued. And then she was gone. Michael, standing behind me, pushed his left hand into my jeans pocket and removed my keys, brushing his hand against my thigh and my penis as he did so.
"I'm driving, David," said Michael, replicating my smile.
Neither of us had a 7th period and my dad didn't get off work until 6:00 p.m., so we were going to my house. A Smashing Pumpkins CD was blasting sound through the car, and my feet were propped up on the dashboard. They were blocking the passenger airbag, a serious problem when Michael is driving.
"So will Morgan and Mr. Midwinter be attending the Prom together," Michael shouted over Billy Corrigan's wailing voice.
"Not if I can help it," I said as I turned down the volume. "I was thinking about going with this hunky fiance of mine." The conversation stopped dead, and the Saturn pulled in to the lot down at the park. David was out of the car, standing in the shade of the pine trees, and I was running up to him.
"I can't do this, David," Michael said. I placed my hand on his tightened shoulder.
"I can't let anyone know about us, David; it's one of the rules. We're gay, we love each other, but we can't let anyone know of it.
I wish I could have you, right here and now, but it's forbidden. We're both popular, and doing this would screw both of us over," Michael said.
"We've already done that, Michael."
I stepped in front of Michael, placing my hands inside of his baggy blue jeans. I unzipped his jeans, pulling them down to his knees, and removed his hard penis from his neon boxer shorts, and fell lightly with him down into the grass.
Then I sunk my mouth around his penis, sucking, circling around the skin with a gentle tongue. Reaching orgasm, he sprayed his sweet white nectar into my mouth, which I drank with an incredible, unquenchable thirst.
Michael stood, cleaning himself off with his boxer shorts, and pulled up his jeans. It had ended between us.
"I'm sorry, Michael."
"For what, David? Not being able to say that you're my boyfriend, my fiance? For not being able to truly say everything you feel for me? For not going to the prom with me?"
"No, for having to leave you when I'm finally closer to you than I could ever hope to be." Then David handed me his ring, and walked away.
Three weeks were gone by; Morgan held my hand in the Saturn. The imp looked beautiful in her Prom dress, even to me. With my seatbelt unbuckled, I moved down to her. David was the only thing on my mind, but I had to play my part. I was going to kiss her, when she smirked, and whispered.
"Are you gay, David Midwinter?" I stopped.
"My brother saw you giving a guy a blowjob at the park. Why didn't you tell me? Who is this guy, David?" I ran out of the Saturn. I had been discovered, the thing that Michael always worried about had happened to me. So I ran into the hotel, avoiding the hall where Prom was held, and hid in some television room. I cupped water from a drinking fountain, and splashed it into my face. The facade had been lost, Michael was gone, Morgan knew that I was gay: my head was spinning.
And then my wet wrists were pulled behind my back, and I felt his lips brush against the back of my neck. His left hand reached in front, stroking my clothed chest, and reached into the pocket of my pants, fishing out a silver engagement ring. He put it on his finger.
"Who are you here with, Michael?" I asked.
"Just this hunky fiance of mine."
Then Morgan walked up to me, and standing on a stool, gave me a gentle kiss on my lips.
"Good luck; I love you David Midwinter. We set him up pretty well, didn't we Michael?"
I didn't know what was ahead, and I wasn't quite sure of what had just happened. But Michael walked in to Prom beside me, holding my hand.