This story is a work of fiction. Any similarities to events or people are completely coincidental. This story will contain profanities and gay sexual acts between teenage characters.This story is intended for a mature audience. If you find this type of story offensive or if you are under 18 years of age, or under the legal age to view this then kindly leave now. Please comment on my story at fictionstories@live.co.uk This is my first time at writing a story so please don't flame me too badly and please use constructive criticism. The author maintains all rights to the story.
Chapter 3: Better safe than sorry.
"Do I need to have the talk with you?" My mom asked eating her corn flakes.
"Jesus no! I'm not having this conversation Claire!" I bellowed. I quickly stood up, scooped up my cereal bowl and scooted to the door. However, my mother was fast. In a very nonchalant manner she kicked a chair towards the door. Luckily I had stopped in time and saved myself from a painful fall.
"Listen up and listen good. I am your mother and you will address me with respect. Whether you call me mom, mother I don't care. But don't dare call me by my name like that!" She angrily spat at me. Silence. I looked straight into her eyes with fear. She looked at mine with burning authority. And that set us off laughing.
"Would you prefer Führer?" I wheezed in between guffaws. "Oh mom. I don't think I've ever seen anything as sad as you trying to be dictator parent."
"And you my son, are the most well behaved, innocent boring old git of a teenager!" She said.
"Git?! What the hell is that?" I asked
"British slang. There's this guy in the office." She smiled. She had that all too familiar hazy look in her eyes.
"Wow mom, already? I think this record is definitely one for the books"
"Well, at least I'm not an uptight virgin lout like you" She rebutted. Damn that woman can push my buttons. "Here" She tossed me a box. I turned it around and blushed when I realized it was a box of condoms.
"Are you sure you don't need this mom?" I pressed. This is probably one of the most embarrassing moments of everyone's lives. There was that time when I found my curious seven year old self going through the medicine cabinet in one of our old homes. I found my mom's stash of condoms and thought they were balloons. Who knows? Might be what made me gay.
"Just tell me I don't have to have the talk with you and I'll be happy" She said sincerely.
"MOM! I do not wa...."
"Yes or no Taylor. It's a simple question with a simple answer." She cut me off.
"You don't have to talk to me about it. I already know about all that. STI's and shit."
"Watch your language douche bag." She said cornily. "So how big is he? seven or eight inches?" She queried genuine interest was lamely etched across her face.
"Mom. For God's sake!" I dumped my cereal bowl.
"I take it he's a midget down there then. You sure can pick 'em honey. I'm almost ashamed to call you my son!" She exclaimed
"I'm heading outside.. to smoke!"
"Flipping slit your wrists why don't you? Don't make me pay for lung cancer treatment!"
"Love you too!" I stepped outside. I don't smoke. That's what I love about my relationship with my mom. We are so comfortable with each other that we can push each others buttons even stepping over the lines of zinging and both of us never take it seriously. I like that. It makes me trust her more to open up to her without her going all judgmental psycho parent mode.
As I stepped onto our back garden, I was met with the cool crisp breeze of the looming fall. Summer vacation was ending. You know the saying 'Summer is like the ultimate one-night stand: hot as hell, totally thrilling, and gone before you know it.'? That was exactly what my extremely short run in with Jared felt like (bar the sex). After the dinner, I had hoped to hear from him but here I am a week later and I haven't gotten any word from him.
I looked into his backyard. It was very well kept. Somebody in his family must be really good with their hands. I can just imagine Jared on a blistering hot summer's day. Shirtless and wearing shorts that show off his packing package. Sweat dripping off his forehead like a fountain of masculinity. I just want to lick him all over. Then I won't be able to control myself and start humping my dick with his right there on the ground on his freshly cut grass. He'll take me in his arms and... Woah. Getting carried away here.
I need to get laid!
***** Author's Note *****
I'm sorry!
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. A lot of you have been waiting for this. I know I don't deserve you forgiveness. But I sincerely apologize for the delay. If you want to listen to my excuses then they are as follows:
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I had writer's block. It is such a pain in the ass. I hated it. It's fixed now though. ;) (I'll tell you why if you e-mail me) LOL
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School is taking it's toll on me. (I'll suddenly drop dead any day now)
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I have regrettably made personal commitment that are taking up most of my free time.
But anyway, I thought I'd post a little sub chapter and let you know I haven't suddenly died over summer or something. :) This chapter is meant to be short. I wanted to give you a little insight on Taylor's relationship with his mom. I will be getting back to the good stuff next chapter SOON VERY, VERY SOON. This time I promise I won't take a millennia. As usual I'd love to hear from you guys. E-mail me at fictionstories@live.co.uk . I WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU!
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P.S. Please bear with me for now.. (again)