Tom and I Begin - 3
Courtesy of www.99Gay-Men.US
Tom And I Begin, Part 3
by Greg Scott
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All the usual stuff about you must be old enough in your jurisdiction, etc. In other words, if you are underage, don't read this unless you have a really cool teacher who assigned it. Otherwise, come back in a few years, when nobody will yell at you.
This is a true story. I haven't changed the names, because the truth is the truth until it is altered. This story is sacred to me, so I couldn't bring myself to alter it in any way.
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Sunday eventually arrived, although it had seemed a very long time coming.
At the appointed hour, Tom arrived at my house to pick me up for our outing with his church's youth group. His dad was driving, of course, although only as far as the church.
I can't miss this opportunity to describe Tom's dad. During this brief car ride to Tom's church was the only time that I ever saw Tom's dad in a tie. It was also the only time that I saw him without a drink in his hand.
In retrospect I note that the presence of a tie and the absence of alcohol did nothing to make Ray any more civil--to me or to his son. This was a man who clearly did not particularly care for his son or for anyone who infested his field of vision. Tom and I were practically inseparable for the next two years. Not once in that time did I hear Ray say one kind thing to his son.
Actually, Tom's mother seemed no happier to have given birth to him, although she was nicer to me. In fact, she was continually telling Tom, in my presence, that he should be more like me. I'm not too sure what she meant by that. Maybe she was just suggesting that he spend as little time at home as I spent at his home.
Once we arrived at the church, the head of the youth group assigned us to a car driven by a man and his wife, who were strangers to me and not very well known to Tom. They engaged in some pleasantries, but were not intrusive. They were a welcome change from Tom's dad, even though my time with him that day had been limited to a few minutes.
Once we had arrived at the Indian Mounds state park, we all gathered for a picnic. I was amazed that I knew very few of the members of Tom's youth group. Mine was a small town, and I was rather well known in it. Yet, among the fifteen or so young people, I knew only a couple besides Tom. That didn't matter to me, because I wanted to direct all my attention to this new, extremely cute friend.
I knew exactly what I wanted to do with this boy, although I wasn't too sure that he shared my enthusiasm, despite his rather direct clues to me some nine days previously. I also knew that the state park was not going to provide the environment for me to act on my fantasies.
It was a lovely, historical place. However, if there was one secluded area, I never saw it. Believe me, I looked hard for a spot.
Tom and I wandered the park rather completely during the next couple hours, but we were always within sight of the multitudes enjoying a sunny Sunday in a peaceful setting. It was a pleasant day, although not stimulating in the way that I had hoped. I was disappointed.
I was ready when the time finally arrived for our return journey. Tom and I took our positions in the backseat of the sedan, while our driver and his wife occupied their usual positions. They had apparently used up all their topics of conversation on the way to the park, because other than asking if we had a nice day, Tom and I were left to talk by ourselves, while the other couple carried on a separate conversation up front.
Once the couple was thoroughly engrossed in their own talk, Tom asked if I was tired. I thought that it was a rather strange question, since all I had done all day was stroll leisurely around some completely unchallenging terrain. I told him I wasn't.
Tom said, "Well, I'm tired, I think I'm going to lay down."
He positioned himself on the back seat of the car, in what looked to be a terribly uncomfortable position.
"I don't have enough room. Do you mind if I put my head in your lap?" Tom asked.
His plan was becoming clear to me, and I could already feel the beginning of a teenage erection coming on. Tom soon slipped his hand under his head. He waited for a reaction. I said nothing, and I didn't try to move his hand away from my lap as I had done during the school assembly.
He started groping, all the while pretending to be resting on my lap, just in case the uninterested adults in front happened to glance back. This went on for quite a while, and I no longer had any doubts about whether Tom and I were on the same wave length. I was extremely tuned to his frequency! And growing more so all the time.
He said, "Aren't you tired?" It was more of a statement of desire than a question about my condition.
"Yes, I am tired, now," I answered in a way that I knew he wanted.
Now, I put my head in his lap, with my hand massaging his very stiff cock. It felt great to confirm that fondling me had excited him.
We traded off like that all the way back to our town.
"You wanna get together some time this week?" I took the initiative as I was getting out of the car at my house.
"Yeah, I'll call you," Tom promised.
He did. It happened to be at a time when my parents weren't home. He rode his bicycle the several miles from his house to mine much faster than I thought possible.
Then we began an earnest exploration of each other that turned into a two year, secret, although probably suspected, love affair.
That pretty much covers the beginning of it all, corresponding to the title of the series. I have more to tell, and I'll share some of it now and the rest in other stories--not in this series.
I've already told you that it was a two year love affair. So, it will not be a surprise to you that it ended the summer after our high school junior year. The reason that it ended is interesting--to me, at least, and I hope to you as well.
It didn't take too long for Tom to tell me that he had mutual jack-off sessions with around six of his friends. All were acquaintances of mine. I was jealous, but I eventually figured, "That's Tom." I knew that he was in love with me, and I think that was what was most important to me.
In our junior year, I started becoming very good friends with a guy who was in the class behind us. This guy, Rick, was a major school jock and bound for stardom.
Tom kept asking me what Rick and I did together. I would tell him. Rick and I ran together, played golf, went to movies and did all the usual teen guy stuff.
Finally, Tom asked me about sex with Rick. I explained that Rick and I didn't do anything sexual. Tom never believed me.
During that summer, Tom became increasingly convinced that Rick and I were having sex. Nothing I said could persuade him otherwise, perhaps because Tom played sexually with so many other guys.
Tom was prone to depression, and, whenever he was angry, he showed his displeasure passive-aggressively. This was his response to his jealousy about Rick. I suppose in retrospect I can see that I could have salvaged my relationship with Tom if I had stopped spending time with Rick. I didn't really see that at the time. Plus, I would not have been willing to end my friendship with Rick. I'm too loyal for that, and I enjoyed Rick too much.
It finally got to the point where we stopped having sex, then stopped seeing each other very often. I missed him, but I was also relieved to be able to pursue other friendships, which I did earnestly during my senior year. Even more, I was relieved to be away from his depression and sniping.
Tom showed up a couple more times in my life, but never again in a sexual way. I always loved him. He had four marriages, each ending in divorce. I suspect that no woman could ever make him happy. I firmly believe that he was gay, but he was never able to accept it, despite having more guy partners at an early age than anyone I have ever known.
The depression finally ended Tom's life, at a far too young age. Yes, he worked those four wives into a short period of time. I regret not having my first love alive anymore. Even more, I regret his life long unhappiness. I doubt that anyone except me ever knew the reason for his continuous pain.
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