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Ronyx

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Ronyx last won the day on June 25 2018

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  1. Ronyx

    Chapter 10

    @NimirRaj Regarding the sheriff pulling his gun on the boys- You have to remember he was getting much of his information from Pastor Simpson. Simpson was at the barn when they were taken into custody. He probably dramatically convinced the sheriff that the boys were evil and dangerous. Just the day before they had vandalized the pastor's home (broken window to escape) and burglarized it(taking the laptop computer,) so the sheriff thought he was dealing with two felons, not runaways.
  2. Ronyx

    Chapter 10

    Five Years Later “Damn sun,” I moaned as I slowly awoke. It seemed like I had only been asleep a few hours. I must have fell into bed around three. From the brightness shining into the dilapidated basement, it must be around six. Since we don’t have electricity, the alarm clock beside us doesn’t work. A body stirred beside me. I looked over to see who it was this time. Was it someone I knew, or was it a stranger I picked up off the street for a quickie. I recognized the red beard. It was Dexter, one of the residents upstairs. I share an apartment with six other people. None of us have a job, and we make money anyway we can. The utility company cut our power two weeks ago when we couldn’t scrape together the money to meet the $416 overdue bill. Now we crash wherever it is warm. Dexter must have come downstairs and climbed into bed with me. “I gotta piss,” I mutter as I pulled back the covers, but I’m too tired to get up from the mattress on the floor. Besides it and a dresser I found in an alley earlier this year, that is the sum of my earthly possessions. I’m hungry, but there is nothing to eat. If I go out early and hustle for money, I might make a few bucks to buy breakfast. If not, then I’ll have to steal to survive. It’s been my life for the past five years. I’ve gotten used to it. It was hard at first. What choice do I have though? No one wants me. “Matt Stevens,” I mutter to myself. “Why do you even bother? You’re just a shell of a man.” On days when my head is straight, and I’m not drugged up or drunk, I reflect back on my life- or what was my life. It was over at sixteen when that damn preacher fucked up everything. The bastard thought he could change me. I never returned home, and I drifted from place to place. Now, I do what I have to do to survive. If it means standing on a street corner holding a sign begging for money, then I do it. If I’m lucky, I may score a few dollars from a sympathetic grandmother who looks at me like she’s glad it’s me and not her grandchild. If I’m unlucky, I will get spat at and told to get a fucking job. Get a fucking job. Who will hire someone like me? My hair is long, and my clothes are dirty and soiled. I used to be a cute kid. Now, I look like some dog who has been chained to a fence inside a used car lot. And on most days, that is how I feel. I drink and take drugs hoping that someday it will kill me. I don’t have the fucking nerve to put a gun to my head and end this madness. But I’ve decided if I ever do, I’m going to go back and kill that bastard who put me here. It’s all his fault. He took everything from me- my family, friends and future. I had a good life until he ruined it. He calls himself a man of God. But if God really exists then he would send down a bolt of lightning and strike him dead as he spews his homophobic shit that he calls a sermon. If he’s a man of God, then I’m the Pope of the Catholic Church. I had more virtue than he could ever possess, until he took it from me. Dexter stirs beside me and opens his eyes. “Hey, Matt,” he smiles as he pulls off his underwear and mounts me. “I’m glad you’re still here.” Twenty minutes later, we get dressed and head upstairs. “What side of town are you hitting today,” asks Dexter. His red hair is unkempt and dirty. I look at his feet, and they are dirty. He is wearing a pair of sandals he stole from a store a few days earlier. Like me, he wouldn’t be a bad looking guy. Put a navy-blue suit and a tie on him, and he would look right at home at IBM. However, his story is as dark as mine. Orphaned at six and moved from one foster home to another until he was seventeen. And like me, he hit the streets where he tries to survive from one day to the next. It’s the hand we were dealt. Dexter isn’t a lover. We could never love anyone because we don’t know if there is a tomorrow in our future. We love for the moment, like this morning. There are never any strings attached. We do stuff that makes us feel good. We know that later the mood will change. I used to feel love, but not anymore. Even then, it was brief, and I’m not even sure it was something you could call love. My best friend, Ricky, kissed me once. It surprised me, but then I began to fall for him. But that bastard pastor fucked it up. He took something beautiful and innocent, and he ruined it. I loved Charles, but again he soiled and dirtied our love. He ranted and raved and cast us into the pits of hell. He turned my family against me, and I lost my friends- and my future. I am where I am today because of that son of a bitch who calls himself a man of God. As I put on my torn and dirty jacket to head out for the day, I begin to violently cough. “You should get that checked,” suggested Dexter. “Yeah, right,” I manage to say between gasps. “I’ll go downtown and see my doctor today.” When I start coughing again, he pats me on my back and hands me half a bottle of water. I inspect it to make sure there is no one’s saliva on it before putting it to my mouth. When we get to the sidewalk, he points east. “I’ll hit this side.” He points to the west. “You go that way.” We bump fists. “We’ll meet up at the noon under the bridge. If we get enough money, we can buy some weed and beer.” “I need more than weed and beer,” I said. “I’m jonesing like a mother fucker.” “Whatever,” he says as he waves and walks away. I tuck my sign under my arm and head to Maple and 7th Street. It is known as my territory. Each of us stake out an area, and generally we respect each other’s right. Occasionally, a newbie will show up, but he or she is quickly run off. Street people can be mean when we feel someone is encroaching on our territory. I stand on the curb far enough away to avoid someone spitting on me, but close enough that I can quickly run up and grab the bill or change when someone holds their hand out the window. I have to be careful because occasionally someone will think it’s funny to hand me a snot-filled tissue or used condom. If their hand is folded, I generally will walk away. My handmade sign says ‘Homeless and Hungry. Will work for food.’ Of course, no one has actually offered me a job. I just hope they think that I may work if asked. It doesn’t make me appear like I’m too bad a charity case. About once a week, a guy will pull up with his dick out and ask me to suck him. I know he’s not a cop because cops aren’t allowed to show their dick. If he seems sincere, and I feel I can trust him, I will jump in the car and give him a quick blow job while he circles around the block a few times. If I become uncomfortable, and he starts to head in another direction, I’ll jump out and give him the finger. So far, I’ve never been hurt. Most guys just want to bust a nut in someone’s mouth and disappear. It’s okay for me because I demand the twenty bucks up front. If he doesn’t get off, it is his fault. Guys have told me I give better head than their old ladies. When I blow a guy, I close my eyes and pretend I’m sucking Ricky like I did the first time I ever sucked a dick. Occasionally, I’ll get hard as a rock and cum in my pants before the guy does. Sometimes, I pretend it is Charles, but I don’t usually get hard. With Ricky, I felt something. With Charles, it was just stuff we did. I was starting to feel something, but it was taken away too soon. I don’t know what happened to Charles after we got arrested in the barn. Well, we weren’t actually arrested, but it felt like it since we got handcuffed and taken downtown. I learned later that Pete’s old man woke up and caught him putting food in a bag to bring us so we would have something to eat. He finally told him we were in the barn. I guess we had been on the news, and viewers were asked to be on the lookout for two runaways. They made it sound like we were in danger. Pete’s dad called the sheriff, and he called my father who called Pastor Simpson. Neither my parents nor Charles’ parents showed up. My parents didn’t even come to the juvenile facility where we were taken. I heard Charles’ parent came and got him, but I was detained for about two weeks. One day, Pastor Simpson showed up with a court order stating that he had custody of me. He mentally tortured me for a week. Every night I was subjected to a meeting of him and several church members as they tried to exorcise the devil from my evil soul. One day, he left my door unlocked and I escaped. I think he did it on purpose so I would leave. Everything after that is a blur. I couldn’t go home, and I was afraid if I went to Ricky’s house, his parents might call the sheriff. I decided that I would never go back home or to Pastor Simpson’s again. I would do whatever I had to do to avoid going back. I wandered the streets for several days until I met an elderly man. He wanted his dick sucked because he said his wife was dead, and he was afraid to trust a prostitute. I guess I worked my magic on him, and he took me home that night. I stayed with him for about a year and a half. His health started to fail, and I felt sorry for him. I became like a nurse to him. I cooked his meals, helped bathe him and kept his apartment clean. He had children but they didn’t visit often. When they did, I would leave so he wouldn’t have to explain what a young boy was doing in his home. Then one morning, I took him his breakfast and he had a weird look on his face, and he couldn’t move. I think he had a stroke during the night. I called 911, and he was rushed to a hospital. I tried to visit him a couple of times, but his family was constantly with him. After going years without hardly seeing him, they now wanted to be with him. I think he had money in the bank, and they were trying to get their share. Anyway, I never saw him again, and he died about a week later. I packed up what little belongings I had and hit the streets again. I’ve thought a few times of walking past Ricky’s house just to see if he still lives there. But then I am afraid I might run into him. What would I say? He would be so disappointed in me. At one time, we had plans. Living on the streets was never an option we discussed. I’m sure he graduated and went on to college somewhere. Me, I became homeless, a drug addict and an alcoholic. That isn’t something I would want to brag about. I think about Charles too. I wonder if he survived. He was so weak and timid. He just let people pick on him and call him names, and he never reacted. He’s probably dead today. Someone probably beat him up and left him for dead in an alley. It’s a shame because Charles was a really good guy. For a minute, I could see us spending the rest of our lives together. It is funny how life is. When you’re sixteen you have dreams. You see yourself years away living a fulfilling life, making something of yourself. Then life kicks you in the ass for no reason at all and robs you of your life and aspirations. And you feel powerless to do anything about it. I’ve spent countless sleepless nights wondering what I did I do wrong? I was a good son. I went to school each day and made good grades. Then one day, things just changed. It started with a kiss, and it wasn’t one I initiated. But my life went into a tailspin, and there was no way I could stop it. With no one to help me, I didn’t know how to stop the fall. So now, I’m standing on a street corner waiting for a stranger to hand me a dollar bill. I just hope they don’t see the tears streaming down my face. Two hours later, I counted the money I had received from strangers. $10.12. Not too bad. At least I could buy a decent lunch. Another added plus- I didn’t get spit on once. I left and attempted to find Dexter. Usually, he panhandles a few blocks away. When I approached, he was sitting on the curb waiting for cars to stop at the light. “Any luck?” I asked. He poured the money from the container and counted it. He frowned and announced, “Just $3.76.” He looked around and spat, “Fucking losers. Can’t even help a homeless person out.” He rose and put his arm around my shoulder. “How about you? Did you do any good?” “A little over ten bucks,” I replied. He patted my back and said, “That’s enough to buy us lunch.” We continued down the street with his arm still around my back. We went to our favorite diner. It’s a greasy spoon, but they accept people like us. The owner tells people about how he was on the street for seven years before buying the diner. I don’t know how he survives serving transients and lousy food. However, he’s kind and he doesn’t try to take advantage of us. We ordered the breakfast meal with two eggs, a slice of bacon and toast. It’s only $3.99. Since I had made a little more this morning, we ordered a cup of coffee. As I ate, Dexter looked over at me. “I had a guy offer me a job this morning,” he announced. I laughed and said, “How much is he going to pay you for a blow job?” “No,” he replied, “It’s an actual job. I even told him about you, and he wants to meet you too.” I asked skeptically, “Doing what?” He leaned forward and looked around before speaking. “Okay, Matt,” he pleaded, “Please hear me out before you say no.” I already didn’t like the sound of that. I knew Dexter well enough to know that if begged for something, he was desperate. “Okay,” I said, “What?” He looked around again. “You know the club over on 36th Street? The Ramrod?” I looked surprised and responded, “Ain’t that a gay bar?” “Yeah.” “And?” “The guy who talked to me this morning is the owner.” “Okay. And?” Dexter replied, “He’s looking for some new dancers. He liked the way I look.” He ran his head over his red hair and beard. “All I gotta do is clean myself up a bit.” “Dancer?” I asked, “When did you become a dancer?” “No, Matt,” he said excitedly. “It’s not like we’ll be dancing.” “We?” I asked, “You got a mouse in your pocket? I ain’t going to make a fool of myself by dancing in front of a bunch of gay guys. Besides, I don’t know how to dance.” “It’s not dance, dance,” he replied. “What do you mean?” Dexter looked around again. “They do this thing on Saturday nights where guys dance.” He looked intently at me. “Now hear me out, Matt.” I nodded my head. “The guys don’t really dance, they strip.” “What!” I shouted loudly. Dexter looked around the diner. “I ain’t taking my clothes off in front of a bunch of guys.” “Why not?” he asked. “You’ve got a great body.” He looked down at himself. “We both do.” “I’m still not stripping,” I replied adamantly. He grinned and said, “You will when I tell you what it pays.” “What’s it pay?” I asked skeptically. “Will, that’s the guy’s name,” he continued, “says we can make a lot of money. He likes the fact that we’re both 21, so he won’t have to worry about cops raiding the place. He said they got busted last month because one of the dancers was only 19.” I frowned and asked, “What’s he going to pay us, Dexter?” “Okay, get this,” he responded excitedly, “We got to be there at 9 and dance until the place closes at 2.” I nodded my head. I was used to not getting much sleep, so that didn’t bother me. He continued, “He’ll pay us $200 a night.” “What!” “Yeah, Matt,” he said, “And that’s not all. Guys will give us tips and we can keep whatever they give us. He said we could easily make more than $200 dollars a night depending on how good we are.” My eyes widened. “Are you shitting me? We can make $400 dollars just taking our clothes off?” “Yeah,” he grinned. “Are you in?” So, I guess, starting Saturday night, I’m going to be a stripper in a gay bar. **** I awoke Saturday morning listening to Dexter snoring loudly. I scooted out of bed and went to the bathroom. Fortunately, we had one in the basement where we slept so we didn’t have to share with others upstairs. Dexter was sitting up in bed when I returned. “Are you ready for tonight?” he asked. He had been talking about our new job offer all week. I wanted to share his excitement, but I was skeptical. I wasn’t sure I would be able to remove my clothing in front of a bunch of drunken guys. Dexter tried to assure me that we wouldn’t be completely nude, and that we would be wearing tight underwear. “Might as well be nude,” I told him. Besides, I had visited a couple of gay clubs in the past when strippers were entertaining. A guy would often pull their underwear down as he shoves a bill into it. Often times, the guy would stroke him in an attempt to get the stripper hard. Even though it was against the law, the owners would watch out for guys they thought might be vice cops, and they would warn the dancers to be careful about exposing themselves or letting customers touch them. I had also heard rumors that there was a backroom where a dancer could take a customer to perform a ‘private show.’ I wasn’t sure what that involved, but I was sure I would find out soon. Besides, if it meant more money, I was pretty open to most things. I like doing stuff as long as it isn’t harmful. I lay back and Dexter started to stroke me. “Better not,” I warned as I grabbed his hand and pulled it away. “We might have to get off tonight. If I cum now, I’m not sure I will be ready later.” He laughed and replied, “When have you never been ready? Hell, I’ve made you cum two or three times in one night.” “We still better not do stuff now,” I said. I rolled over and got out of bed. We dressed in new clothes we were able to buy with the money we had panhandled the past few days. Since the nights were getting a little cooler, people were more generous to us. Some would even tell me to buy a hot cup of coffee as they handed me a few bills. I looked at Dexter and asked, “Are you okay doing this?” He gave me a skeptical look. “I mean stripping naked in front of a bunch of guys?” He posed and replied, “I ain’t got nothing to be ashamed of.” He was right. Dexter has a nice body. He’s about 6’3 and slender. What I’ve always found exciting about him is his chest is furry. I love lying beside him and running my hand over the thick hair. I’m sure guys would go wild when they watched him strip. I’ve tried to take care of my body too. At 21, I’m still young enough that years of drugs and drinking haven’t affected my appearance. I’ve seen the veterans on the street. Some look like they are sixty, when they are really half that age. You can also see it in their sunken and dark eyes. I might as well take advantage of my good looks and body while I can, for time will soon catch up with me. I’m several inches taller than I was in high school. I’m slender like Dexter, but neither of us would be considered skinny. My brown hair is long and shaggy, mainly because I can’t afford to get it cut. I’m not hairy like Dexter. I have a nice bush without too thick of hair. My cock gets about seven inches when it is hard. Dexter’s gets about eight inches. I might be a little self-conscious tonight because his will be larger than mine. He’ll probably make more money in tips. “What time do we have to be there?” I ask Dexter. He told me a few days ago that the guy who owned the club wanted us to come early on Saturday to ‘audition.’ I guess there won’t be much auditioning going on. He’ll probably have us strip naked just to see if we can excite an audience. I’m nervous as hell, but Dexter has talked all week about how much money we will be able to make. I still can’t believe I’ll be able to bring home at least $400 for just taking off my clothes. If I give someone a ‘private’ show in the backroom, I’ll make more. Maybe then I can make enough money to move out of this hellhole of a basement. I’ll know after tonight.
  3. Ronyx

    Chapter 9

    We waited until it got dark before we decided it might be safe to leave our hiding place. The lights were on in the house, but we didn’t see anyone moving about the yard. “Come on,” I whispered to Charles as I stood and took his hand to help him up. He asked, “Where are we going?” I pointed to a nearby barn. “Let’s see if we can find a place to sleep in there.” I looked up into the sky, and I didn’t see the moon or stars. “I think we might get some rain soon. We’ll get wet if we stay here.” We carefully made our way to the barn. I kept watching to see if anyone looked out the window to see us. Once inside, I looked around. I noticed a ladder that led to the loft. Even though I had never been in a barn before, I had a friend who told me he used to help his grandfather when he would visit in the summer. He said he used to enjoy playing in the hay loft. I wasn’t sure what we would find, but it was worth taking the risk rather than being discovered. We climbed the ladder and sat on a bale of hay. Looking around, the loft was half-filled with bales. It was hard to see since there was no light except for one light downstairs that cast a small glow above. We jumped when we heard a strange noise coming from a rafters above. “What’s that?” Charles asked as he grabbed me and held me tightly. I replied, “An owl, I think.” “Do they bite?” I shrugged my shoulders, “I don’t know. I don’t think so.” I kissed him gently on his cheek. “We’re going to be okay.” He trembled in my arms. “I don’t think so,” he cried. “I’m so scared.” I began to yawn. “I’m tired,” I said. “Let’s spread some of this hay into a bed and try to get some sleep.” He nodded, and we quickly made a makeshift bed. We lay close to each other and snuggled. “What’s going to happen to us?” Charles asked worriedly. “I don’t know,” I replied. “I don’t want to go back to home, and I definitely don’t want to go back to Pastor Simpson’s house.” “Me either,” he replied. “But I don’t know what we’re going to do.” I put my arm around him and pulled him tightly to me. “Let’s get some sleep, and we’ll leave early in the morning before the sun comes up. If we’re not too far from town, we’ll go to Ricky’s house. His dad can help us.” “Are you sure?” “Yeah,” I replied. “He’s a pretty cool guy. He’s been like a father to me. Besides, he knows Ricky is gay. He’ll know what to do.” “His dad knows he’s gay, and he doesn’t care?” asked Charles in amazement. “Yeah,” I said. “I told you he’s pretty cool.” Charles sighed and replied worriedly, “I hope so.” We tried to sleep, but we both tossed and turned. “I can’t sleep,” grumbled Charles. “This is too uncomfortable.” “I know,” I agreed. “I can’t either.” I sat up and looked down at Charles and asked, “You want to do some stuff? It might help us sleep.” “Do some stuff?” he asked. “Like what?” “This,” I giggled as I reached down and grabbed his crotch and began rubbing him. “Oh,” he moaned as he began to harden. He reached over and started rubbing me. I was already hard. I stood and removed my shirt. “Let’s get naked,” I giggled. “No one’s going to see us.” Charles hesitated before he rose and started getting undressed. When we were naked, I approached Charles and hugged him. Our erections pressed against our bodies. “Mmmm,” I moaned. “I like this.” He pulled me tighter and said, “I do too.” He gasped when I dropped to my knees and engulfed his dick in my mouth. “Wait,” he said softly. “I want to do you too.” “I got an idea,” I suggested. “Let’s lay down and do each other at the same time.” We carefully lay on the hay and got into a 69 position. I took his dick into my mouth as he did the same to me. It was a different feeling, and we were both enjoying it. We were so engrossed in what we were doing that we didn’t hear someone enter the barn and climb the ladder. Suddenly, a flashlight shone upon our naked bodies. “Hey!” a youthful voice asked, “What are you doing up here?” Charles and I panicked. We quickly grabbed the nearest piece of clothing and attempted to cover our naked bodies. The person stepped off the ladder and looked down at us. “I asked what are you doing up here?” I couldn’t see the person speaking because of the light of the flashlight. “We ain’t doing anything,” I replied nervously. “We were just trying to get some sleep. Honest. We wasn’t going to steal anything.” The voice asked, “Matt? Is that you?” My heart started pounding. Whoever had discovered us knew me. He had caught me having sex with Charles. “Who are you?” I asked nervously. Again, I thought we were in serious danger. He shone the light on us and ordered, “You two get dressed. You got a lot of explaining to do.” He continued to shine the light so we could find our clothes. We dressed as quickly as we could. When we were done, the person approached us. “Sit over here on this bale,” he instructed as he shone the light on us. After we sat down, he sat opposite us. I still couldn’t make out who it was until he turned the flashlight and shone it on his face. “Pete!” I shouted. “What are you doing here?” He giggled and replied, “I live here, Stupid. What are you doing here?” He shined the light onto Charles’ face. “Hi Charles.” Charles timidly waved at him. Pete Williams is a classmate, but he isn’t someone I would call a close friend. He’s extremely athletic, and he plays on three team sports: football, basketball and track. I’ve admired him from a distance since we were in grade school. He’s the guy everyone wants to know, but if you’re someone like me, you don’t have a chance. Most of his friends are other athletes or pretty girls who hang around him hoping that he will notice them. He’s also probably the most handsome boy in our class. If you walk through a mall and see a poster in a clothing shop showing a boy wearing the latest fashion, it would be Pete Williams. He has curly dark brown hair, brown eyes, a dimpled smile on an athlete’s body. Pete is the kind of boy every mother wishes her daughter would date. Even though he’s never had a steady girlfriend that I know of, it’s been rumored that he has had his share of leaving a long trail of old lovers. He sat the flashlight between us, so we could see each other’s faces. His brown eyes twinkled with excitement. I wasn’t sure how to read him. He didn’t seem upset that he had just caught two boys having sex in his hayloft, but again, he might be waiting to hear our excuse before he decided what to do. “I’ll ask you again,” he said without seeming angry. “What are you and Charles doing in my hayloft having sex?” “We didn’t know it was your barn,” I apologized. “We’re not here to steal or anything.” He smiled a broader smile. “You still ain’t answered my question, Matt. Why are you up here in the hayloft?” I looked worriedly at Charles. How could I ever begin to tell Pete why we were in his hayloft. Even if I did, he probably wouldn’t believe us. “Well?” he asked. I looked again at Charles, and he nodded his head. I asked, “Are you sure?” “Maybe he can help us,” replied Charles. “What do we have to lose?” Pete asked, “Help you with what?” I looked Pete in the eyes and asked, “If we tell you, you promise you won’t tell anyone?” He grinned and replied, “I can’t promise anything until you tell me. But yeah, you can tell me.” “Okay,” I sighed. I spent the next ten minutes telling Pete about the situation we were in. I confessed that Charles and I are gay, and then told him how our parents had sent us to Pastor Simpson for conversion therapy. He shook his head in disbelief when I told him how Pastor Simpson had taped Charles and me having sex, and now he was threatening to show the video to our parents. I finished by telling hm how we had broken the window and escaped. When I was done, my face was stained with tears. I looked over at Charles and he was also crying. “So,” I said as I took a deep breath. “That’s why we are here in your hayloft.” “Damn,” he hissed. “Jesus Christ, what you guys have been through.” I wiped tears from my face and nodded. “The past few days have been a nightmare,” I cried. He rose from the bale of hay and said, “You guys hang tight. I’ll be right back.” He took the flashlight, climbed onto the ladder and disappeared. Charles started to weep. “I bet he’s going to call the sheriff, and we’re going to be taken back to Pastor Simpson’s.” He rose and started pacing around. “What are you doing?” I asked worriedly. “I’m trying to find a way to kill myself,” he wailed. “There has to be some rope around here someplace.” I rushed over and took him in my arms. “Don’t, Charles,” I cried as I held him tightly. “We can’t give up.” “I can’t go back,” Charles replied as he buried his head in my shoulder and sobbed. We jumped when we heard the barn door close below us. Soon, Pete was coming up the ladder. He placed a bag on the floor before climbing into the loft. He grabbed the bag and brought it over to us. “He alright?” he asked as he looked at Charles still clinging to me and sobbing loudly. I nodded and replied, “He’s really scared. He doesn’t want to go back.” I looked worried at Pete. “You didn’t call the sheriff, did you?” “Hell, no!” he spat angrily. “I wouldn’t do that.” He pointed for us to have a seat on a bale of hay. “Sit down.” After we sat, he placed the bag in front of us. He reached in and pulled out a six pack of Coke, a big bag of potato chips and a box of crackers. “Sorry,” he apologized, “but it is all I could find right now.” He smiled and added, “I figured you are hungry.” “You have no idea,” I said happily as I reached for the bag of chips, reached in and took a handful. I then handed the bag to Charles, and he began eating hungrily. A few minutes later, the chips and crackers had disappeared. “Thanks,” I said appreciatively as I wiped my mouth with my sleeve. “We were hungry. We had a few apples off your tree, but that’s all.” He smiled and replied, “Those are some good apples. Mom makes apple pies with them. The rest we can for the winter.” We sat and stared at each other. I think Pete was as confused as I was as what should happen next. Finally, he asked, “What are you guys going to do next?” I shrugged my shoulders and said, “I don’t have a clue. There’s no one who can help us. We were going to try and get to Ricky’s house tomorrow and see if his dad could help us.” “Ricky Fowler?” he asked. I nodded my head. “Isn’t he like your best bud?” I smiled and nodded my head again. “I don’t know what his dad can do, though,” I responded worriedly. “He’ll just call my dad to let him know I’m okay. Dad will come get me and take me back to Pastor Simpson’s.” “That guy sounds like a dangerous asshole,” he spat angrily. “You got that right,” I replied. “Well, you’re not going back to him,” he assured me as he moved closer and stared into my face. “Why don’t you guys try and get some sleep. Give me some time to think about this. I may have an idea.” “What idea?” I asked. “Can’t say yet,” he replied. “I need some time to work something out.” He put his hand on my arm. “Trust me, okay?” I nodded my head. “What do we have to lose?” “Okay,” he said as he headed toward the ladder. “I’ll be back in the morning with something else for you guys to eat.” He started grinning widely. “Just keep your clothes on this time. I don’t want to come back up and see what I saw earlier.” He laughed and climbed down the ladder. We lay down on the hay and snuggled closely. The temperature had dropped quite a bit since we first entered the barn. I could feel Charles trembling slightly. I scooted nearer and put my arms around him. He sighed and asked, “What do you think is going to happen next? Do you think we can trust Pete?” “We have to,” I replied. “Right now, we don’t have a lot of options.” He nodded his head and relaxed in my arms. “This is nice,” he said softly. He looked into my eyes and smiled slightly. “You’re the only good thing that has happened.” I leaned down and kissed him gently. “I know,” I said. “I wish we had met under different circumstances.” He frowned and responded, “You’ve known me for years, Matt.” He tried to pull away, but I held him tightly. “You could have spoken to me anytime.” “I was wrong,” I confessed. I kissed him again. “But now, we’re together.” He pulled away, and this time I let him. He sat up and stared at me. “Are we, Matt? Are we really together?” “Sure,” I replied, but I knew he was expecting me to say more. “And tomorrow what?” “What do you mean, what?” “If we get out of this mess,” he asked suspiciously, “Will you continue to be my friend, or will you go back to ignoring me again?” I knew what he was asking, but I couldn’t give him the answer he wanted to hear. We had become very close because of what we were experiencing. There was a strong bond between us. However, Charles was right. Could I be seen holding his hand? Could I kiss him in front of our friends? Could I confess to Ricky what Charles and I had done? Would Ricky understand? I began to realize that I was perhaps taking advantage of Charles. I cared a lot about him. I wanted him to be safe. But looking at the sad expression on his face, I felt he wanted more. I felt that he may be falling in love. Love? What am I talking about? I don’t know what love is. I’ve never really experienced it. I can honestly say that I don’t think I’ve ever loved my parents. I know I don’t love my dad, and I probably never will. And mom was just, well, mom. However, I don’t know if I can say I love my mother. After what has happened the past few days, I don’t know if I can ever love or trust her again. I know she’ll say that she was going along with what my father wanted to do. She’ll agree that she was doing what she thought was best for me. But I want her to tell me she did it because she loved me. Yet, I know she’ll never say it. Charles sighed and lay back down. His thin body was trembling from the cold. Carefully, I made my way to the ladder. There was just enough light below to be able to descend the ladder. Once down, I began to search around the barn for anything we could use to cover us from the cold. I heard a horse neigh, and I carefully approached his stall. Fortunately, there was a horse blanket hanging over the wooden wall to the stall. The horse surprised me when he peeked out over the wall. I gently rubbed his nose as he nudged my body slightly. I think he thought I was Pete, and that I was going to feed him. After a few more pets, I grabbed the blanket and walked away. As I approached the ladder, I smelled the blanket. It had an earthy smell like horse’s sweat. I shrugged my shoulders. It was either shiver in the cold or endure the strong odor of an animal. I thought the latter option was the best. I climbed the ladder and approached Charles lying in the hay. It appeared he had tried to find warmth by covering his body with hay. I lay down and tossed the blanket over us. He stirred slightly and pulled the body over him. “It stinks,” he mumbled. “Yeah,” I replied as I lay beside him and covered myself. I couldn’t sleep, and I could tell by his movements that Charles was having trouble sleeping, too. I scooted nearer to him and put my arm around him. He sighed and spooned his body into mine. “Are you warm?” I asked. “Yeah,” he replied softly. He began to cry as his body trembled. He rolled over and faced me. In the dark, I could see tears glistening in his eyes. “Matt,” he said almost inaudibly. “I’m in love with you.” I leaned forward and kissed him. I awoke when I heard voices below. It must have been early dawn because light was creeping in through the wooden barn siding. I listened thinking that either Pete or his father had come to the barn to do morning chores. I had heard cows mooing below all night, so I thought someone might have come in to milk them. Charles moved beside me. When he noticed that I was sitting up, he rose and asked me what was wrong. “Shhhh,” I said as I put my lips to my mouth. “Someone is in the barn.” “Who?” “I dunno,” I replied. The voices grew louder. We couldn’t understand what they were saying, but it appeared to be several people. We jumped when we heard someone climbing the ladder. A heavy man’s face first appeared. As he took more steps, we saw a gray uniform and a sheriff’s badge. “There they are,” he announced to the others below as he pointed in our direction. “I don’t want any trouble from you boys,” he warned us angrily. He pulled out his gun and pointed it at us. “Just get up slowly and make your way over here. Do as I say, and no one will get hurt.” I wanted to piss my pants. We rose and Charles gripped my arm tightly. “I’m scared,” he said softly. I said, “Let’s do as he says.” We started to move slowly and cautiously toward the sheriff. I was afraid if we did anything, he might shoot us. He started to descend the steps and instructed us to follow. When I looked below there were three or four other officers. When I began to descend the stairs, Pastor Simpson pointed at me and shouted, “That’s him.” When we were on the ground below, we were quickly handcuffed. Charles and I were separated. He was led to one cruiser, while I was put in the back of another. I stared out the window as the sheriff stood nearby talking to Pastor Simpson. He kept pointing toward the car. After several minutes, he got in his car and drove away. The sheriff sauntered over to the cruiser and got in. He looked in the back seat at me and scowled. “You’re in a heap of trouble, Boy,” he said angrily. I cried as we drove away.
  4. Ronyx

    Chapter 8

    We continued to write for about another hour. I didn’t want to do it, but Charles insisted that it might be our way of being able to go home. “Our parents may keep us here forever,” warned Charles. I still didn’t understand what was happening. One day I was going to school. Ricky and I became friends, even friends with benefits. The next thing I know is Dad is forcing me into the car and bringing me here. I asked Charles, “How did you get here?” “It was last week,” he replied. “Pastor Simpson came to the house and spoke to my parents for about an hour. The next thing I know is I’m told to pack a bag for a few days. He brought me here.” “Have you seen your parents?” “No,” he replied sadly. “Pastor Simpson won’t even let me call them.” Tears started to fall down his cheeks. “They probably don’t want me coming home.” I scooted toward him and held him while he cried. Tears were falling down my cheeks because I was feeling the same way. We didn’t know what was going to happen to us. Charles stopped crying, sat back and muttered, “Thanks. I’m glad you’re here with me. I thought I was alone in the world.” “We’ll survive,” I assured him. “We have too.” “I hope so,” he replied as he wiped tears from his eyes. I asked, “What about tomorrow?” I was concerned about school. I had already missed one day, and I didn’t want to miss a test that was scheduled for tomorrow. Mrs. Longfellow always gives biology tests on Friday. “Pastor Simpson takes us,” he replied. “He’ll also be waiting for us when school lets out. Don’t be late,” he warned. “He hates having to wait.” “Is that why you ran off when James hit me?” “Yeah,” he said sadly. “I’m sorry, but I had to leave. If I had stayed around, Charles might have come after me again.” He looked sadly at the bruises still on my face. “I’m really sorry,” he said as tears welled up in his eyes. We suddenly heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I scooted my chair away, picked up a pencil and began copying. Pastor Simpson unlocked the door and entered. He looked around the room before walking over to us. He lifted the papers off our desks to see what we had written. “Nothing like the Good Word to lead us to a righteous life,” he said proudly. “Isn’t that right, Boys?” When we didn’t respond, he repeated angrily, “Isn’t that right, Boys?” “Yes, Sir,” we replied nervously. “Now get up from your chairs and kneel before the Lord,” he ordered. He spent the next few minutes praying as he had earlier in his study. Occasionally, he would put his hands on our foreheads. I wanted to giggle and tell him it wasn’t doing any good. The devil was refusing to come out. However, I knew I would be punished if I did. After about ten minutes, he stopped praying and told us to get ready for bed. When he left, he locked the door. When we started dressing for bed, I told James, “I hate it here.” “Shhhh!” he said as he put his finger to his lips. He walked over to me and whispered, “I didn’t hear him go downstairs. I think he’s listening to us at the door.” We quickly dressed. I jumped into my bed, and James turned out the lights before crawling into his bed. Five minutes later, I heard the door unlock. I could see Pastor Simpson’s silhouette in the doorway. He looked around before closing the door and locking it. I lay awake for a long time. I was unable to fall asleep. So many thoughts were running through my mind. My main fear was what was going to happen to me and Charles. We were prisoners here, and I didn’t see anything changing soon. My mother and father had abandoned me- for nothing. All I did was try to protect the boy who was now lying eight feet away. And I would do it again if I had to. I like Charles a lot. He has a kind and gentle soul. I don’t think it is in his nature to hurt anyone. I had seen other students pick on him over the years, and not once did he ever respond in an angry way. He usually would just put his head down and try to ignore their comments. Even when students like James confronted him, he would try to walk away. I knew I had to act the other day because if I hadn’t, James would have hurt Charles. Instead, I was the one who got hurt. But were my parents proud of what I had done? No, they rejected me. I have to live with their decision the rest of my life. I still find it hard to believe what happened earlier. I find Charles attractive. He’s extremely cute even though he is girlish. I’ve never before thought of boys in a sexual way. I liked seeing Ricky naked. There is nothing special about him, but he’s fun to be around. And now that we’ve had sex together, I hope that we can spend more time alone. I’m not sure where Charles will fit into my life. What we did was fun and spontaneous, but I don’t know if I want him as a boyfriend. Boyfriend? Did I just say that? I know that Ricky and I can’t be that. I feel that he’s a brother I never had. I looked over at Charles. He still appeared to be having trouble sleeping too. But where do we go from here? We’ve kissed each other, not just once but several times. And I liked it. I didn’t feel filthy or dirty when we did it. It is like it was meant to happen. Since it was our first time kissing a boy, maybe it was meant to be. We are both struggling with our sexuality. Kissing and hugging each other kind of confirmed the doubts we were having. I now know that I’m gay. I don’t think I can admit that to anyone but Ricky and Charles yet, but I know for sure who and what I am. And it scares me. An hour later, I was still wide awake. Charles kept tossing and turning in bed. Suddenly, I heard him sniffling, and then he began to cry softly. I could feel his pain, and tears started to flow down my cheeks. I pulled back the covers and carefully walked across the floor. I sat on the side of his bed and asked, “Are you okay, Charles?” He gripped my arm and cried, “I’m scared, Matt! What is going to happen to us?” He sat up and pulled me into a tight hug. We cried together as we clung to each other in desperation. After several minutes, he pulled away and looked into my face. “Why, Matt? What did we do wrong?” “We’ve done nothing wrong,” I assured him. I kissed him quickly, and then I pulled back his sheet and crawled in beside him. I rolled over on my side facing away from him. He lay back down and snuggled against me. When he put his arm around me and spooned his body into mine, I gripped his arm. Soon, we were both asleep. I awoke just before six. Charles’s body was still pressed against me. I carefully crawled out of bed and got into mine. I didn’t want Pastor Simpson coming in and seeing us lying in bed together. I’m not sure what he would do if he did. I fell back asleep, but I was awakened when I heard the key in the lock. Pastor Simpson entered and stood in the middle of the room. “Get up!” he shouted angrily. “I want you dressed and downstairs in ten minutes!” He stared angrily at us before leaving. We jumped when he violently slammed the door. I noticed that he didn’t lock it. “What’s going on?” I asked Charles. He looked as stunned as I was. He shook his head and responded, “I don’t know. I’ve never seen him act like that before.” We jumped out of bed and quickly started dressing. We didn’t want him to get madder by us showing up late. After a quick visit to the bathroom, we stood at the door and looked at each other. Charles gripped my arm and asked nervously. “You don’t think he knows anything, do you?” “How could he,” I replied. “We’ve been locked in the room alone.” Charles reached out and gripped my hand. “I’m scared,” he said. “I’m glad you’re with me.” I squeezed his hand and opened the door. We didn’t know what awaited us. Pastor Simpson met us at the bottom of the steps. He pointed toward the kitchen. “Mrs. Simpson has breakfast ready. Eat quickly and come to my study.” His eyes narrowed in anger. “It’s going to be a long day.” Charles and I looked quickly at each other. We had no idea what he meant. I hoped whatever he wanted to talk about didn’t take too long. It was Friday, and I had a test to take. Besides, I had missed school yesterday, and I didn’t want to fall too far behind in my classes. We ate quickly. Mrs. Simpson gave us a disappointed look when she put the plates in front of us and left the kitchen. Again, we were both feeling scared by their behavior. I felt something bad had happened, but I didn’t have any idea what it was. For a minute, I began to feel that maybe something bad had happened to someone in my family or Charles’s. I don’t know if I could live with myself if Dad or Mom died, and the last thing they would remember about me was that I might be gay. We finished eating and placed our plates in the dishwasher. Charles looked at me worriedly and asked, “Are you ready?” I nodded my head, and we headed towards Pastor Simpson’s study. I wanted to reach out and hold Charles’s hand, but I didn’t. Pastor Simpson was sitting at his desk. He was looking at something on the computer in front of him. He looked up, scowled and snapped, “Sit down!” We nervously sat in chairs he had placed in front of his large oval desk. He continued to look at the monitor. He again looked up with an angry look on his face. “We have a very long day ahead of us,” he informed us. My voice trembled when I told him that I had to be at school for a test. He rose from his desk and slammed his hand on it. Charles and I jumped in our chairs. Pastor Simpson had such an angry look on his face, that I was afraid he might hit us. “You’re going nowhere,” he shouted. “I’ve been nice to you boys,” he spat. “I’ve been peacefully trying to remove the evil that has taken over your bodies.” He shook his head and continued, “But the devil is strong.” He reached for his Bible and waved it in the air. “God is stronger!” He shouted and began talking that strange language he used the day before. After several minutes, he stopped and looked down at us with dark, black eyes. “Today, I am determined to save your souls and keep you from hell, fire and damnation!” he shouted. I started to cry because I was so scared. “What have we done?” I asked. “What have you done!” He leaned down and looked angrily into my face. He then walked around the desk and grabbed the laptop computer and turned the screen toward us. “I’ll show you what you have done!” He hit a button, and suddenly a video appeared of Charles and me kissing naked the night before in the bathroom. We were both erect and grinding our bodies into each other. I wanted to vomit when I saw what was happening. Charles looked over at me with a shocked look on his face. Pastor Simpson had placed a hidden camera in the room to monitor what we were doing. It was facing the bathroom, and I suddenly remembered we had not closed the door, so he was able to see everything we did. We jumped when he slammed the computer closed. He hissed, “I have never seen anything so disgusting and evil in my life. Satan has consumed your bodies and souls.” My voice trembled when I asked, “What are you going to do to us?” There was no use in denying that we weren’t gay. He had evidence to prove that we were. He looked at his watch. “Your parents should be here in about fifteen minutes,” he informed us. I looked wildly over at Charles. He looked like he was about to faint. I’ve also invited some members of the church, and two other pastors who have experience in this sort of thing.” Tears were flowing freely down my cheeks. “What are you going to do to us?” The hairs on my neck stood when he warned, “We are going to pray the gay out of your bodies.” He looked again at his watch. “People should be arriving soon.” He walked to door, turned and warned, “Don’t leave those chairs until I return.” He then walked out and locked the door behind him. “Oh, My God,” cried Charles. “He saw us!” I was growing angry. “I can’t believe he had a hidden camera in the room! That’s illegal or something,” I spat. “What do you think is going to happen now?” sobbed Charles. “Pastor Simpson is going to show it to our parents.” He put his head down and continued to cry. “I can’t watch their faces when they see it.” “They won’t,” I stated angrily as I rose from my chair. Charles tried to pull me back into my chair. “You heard what he said,” he warned. “I don’t care what he said,” I replied as I walked around to the other side of the desk, pulled the cord from the outlet and placed the computer under my arm. Charles asked excitedly, “What are you going to do?” “I’m leaving,” I said adamantly. “I’m not going to let him do this.” “How are you going to stop him?” asked Charles worriedly. I paced around the room for a minute. I stopped in front of a bronze statue of Jesus on a table near a window. I picked it up and started smashing the window out. “Matt!” screamed Charles. “What are you doing?” I ran over and grabbed his arm. “Come on,” I said as I pulled him toward the window. I checked to make sure that there was no glass that would cut us. “Crawl out!” I helped him climb out the window. I think things were happening so fast that he didn’t have time to think about it. After he was free, I climbed out behind him and looked around. We appeared to be on the side of the house facing a wooded area. I grabbed Charles arm and pulled him toward the trees. “Come on!” I knew we didn’t have much time before Pastor Simpson found us missing. He had to have heard me breaking out the window. We ran as fast as we could. I dropped the computer once and had to quickly pick it up. As we entered the wooded area, I heard Pastor Simpson shouting at us from the broken window. We were so far away I couldn’t make out what he was saying. We ran through the dense forest so fast that we didn’t realize what direction we were going. I just wanted to get as far away from Pastor Simpson’s house that we could. There were no paths, and we were getting beaten by tree limbs and tall weeds. I looked over at Charles, and he had cuts on his face and arms. He had a look of shear fright on his face. I grabbed his hand and we continued running. We must have run for about twenty minutes before we came to a small creek. We sat down on a rock and tried to catch our breaths. I kept listening to hear any broken branches to indicate someone was following us. We were both gasping for air and couldn’t even speak for several minutes. Charles looked at me and asked, “What are we going to do now?” “I don’t know,” I replied as I stood and looked around. “There’s a creek here,” I said as I pointed at the water. “It has to lead to a larger lake or something. We’ll just follow it and hope it leads somewhere.” I walked over, gently gripped his arm and helped him up. We stepped over to the creek and looked down. “Which way?” he asked. “This way,” I responded as I stepped into the water. I remembered in science in the seventh grade that water flows into larger bodies of water. I was hoping that the creek would lead us to a larger river or lake. From there, we might find a path that would take us back to a road. We trudged through the muddy banks for what seemed like miles. We were frightened because we saw numerous snakes on the banks. We also had to sidestep two that were swimming in the water. “I hate snakes,” I muttered as we continued forward. “Me, too,” replied Charles. “And bugs,” he spat as he slapped a large bug that had landed on his forehead. I was right. We did emerge from the forest into an open area with a large lake. I looked around, hoping to see a boat or someone fishing on the banks. However, it was completely deserted. “What now?” asked Charles. I looked over, and in the sunlight noticed how many cuts and scrapes he had on his body. I knew by the looks of my arms that I probably had quite a few. At least we had worn pants, so our legs had been protected. We walked to the edge of the lake and stopped. I held up the computer and heaved it about twenty feet out into the lake. It made a splash and then sank to the bottom. I didn’t know how deep the water was, but I was sure that no one would find it soon. If they did, the water would have damaged the hard drive making it impossible for anyone to ever see the video again. I suggested, “Let’s walk around the lake and see if we can find a path.” A path would have to lead to a road or a house. We walked about halfway around the lake when we noticed a well-trod path leading up a hill. I grabbed Charles’s arm and helped him up the hill. Again, we walked for about ten minutes until we came to another clearing. In the distance, we saw a large farmhouse with a barn. Several children were playing on a swing tied to a large oak tree. Charles started to walk toward the children, but I pulled him back. “Wait,” I said. “We can’t just go walking up to them.” He gave me a puzzled look. “Why?” “By now, Pastor Simpson has probably called the police,” I told him. “If we go up to the house, they’ll call the police, and they’ll call him. He’ll come and pick us up and take us back to his house.” Charles nodded his head. “You’re probably right. So, what do we do?” I sat down behind some brush so that we couldn’t be seen by the children. “We’ll wait until dark and then head out for the street. It has to lead somewhere.” Charles rubbed his stomach. “I’m hungry and thirsty.” “We’ll have to wait,” I warned. “I’m not going back there again.” I looked around and noticed an apple tree about twenty feet away. I pointed it out to Charles. “When the kids stop playing, we’ll go get some apples.” He grinned and nodded his head. We lay and rested for about a half hour. We snuggled close to comfort each other. We briefly fell asleep until I heard the children stop screaming. I looked around the brush and they had gone inside. I carefully got up and walked over to the apple tree. I picked about ten off the tree and returned to where Charles was still asleep. His eyes opened when I sat back down. “Here,” I said as I handed him one. He greedily bit into it and started eating. They were the best apples I had ever tasted.
  5. Ronyx

    Chapter 7

    We entered the kitchen and Pastor Simpson pointed to the chairs where we were to sit. I was on his left, and Charles was on his right. Mrs. Simpson was at the oven removing a baked chicken. It smelled delicious. She looked over, smiled and said, “Hello, Boys.” When we said nothing, Pastor Simpson said angrily, “When you are spoken to, the courteous thing to do is respond.” My face reddened as Charles and I said hello. “It’s okay, Boys,” she remarked as she cut the chicken and placed it on our plates. “Children aren’t raised today to show proper respect like our parent taught us.” She looked at her husband as he nodded in approval. I wanted to tell her that my parents did raise me to be respectful. Just because I was nervous and failed to do it this time didn’t mean I wasn’t taught good manners. I’m not sure about Charles, but I suspected he had been raised the same way. When the plates were prepared, she sat down. She reached over and took my hand. My first instinct was to pull it away, but I knew I would receive another lecture. I jumped when Pastor Simpson gripped my other hand. I noticed that they did the same to Charles. I felt uncomfortable because even though I was used to my parents praying during meals, we didn’t hold hands. Pastor Simpson started praying. “Our Dear Father in Heaven. We thank you for this wonderful meal. We ask that you bless this food. We also thank you for our guests this evening, Charles and Matthew.” Thus began a ten-minute prayer in which he discussed the sinful nature of Charles and my ways. By the time he finished, I was scared that fire and brimstone might fall through the kitchen ceiling and burn us into Hell. When he spoke, it didn’t even seem like he was talking about me. I’m only sixteen, but he made it appear that I had committed every sin mentioned in the Bible. He kept saying one word over and over- lust. I don’t even know if I’ve ever felt lust. I guess I might have a little when I was with Ricky last night, but other than that I’ve never felt that my thoughts were consumed with sex. Even when I jack off, I don’t think about having sex with someone. I just enjoy the feeling I get when I do it. Of course, what Ricky did felt even better. He also kept mentioning sodomy. I don’t even know what that word means. He called Charles and me sodomites several times. I think Charles was thinking the same thing because he kept taking quick glances at me. If this was what living here was going to be like, then I don’t want to have any part of it. I have to think of some way to escape. Finally, he said, “Amen.” When I took my first bite from my plate, the chicken was cold and everything else was cold. I wanted to ask if I could be excused, but I knew Pastor Simpson wouldn’t allow it. Besides, we were supposed to meet with him after dinner. I wasn’t looking forward to that. Everything I feared came true. After helping Mrs. Simpson clean the table, he ordered us into his study. It had a huge desk in the middle of the room. It was covered with papers, books and several Bibles. I guess it is where he prepares his sermons. There was a sofa and two leather chairs along the wall. There were also two small mats on the floor. I had no idea why they were there. However, I soon found out. He walked over, stood before the mats and pointed down. “Kneel,” he ordered. I looked over at Charles as he walked over and knelt in front of Pastor Simpson. Nervously, I walked over and knelt on the other mat. My entire body was shaking with fear. He placed his hands on our foreheads and began praying. He kept shoving us slightly, and several times I felt that I would fall over backwards. He began speaking in a language I had never heard before. It scared me because the longer he mumbled he grew angrier. He kept grabbing the top of our heads and pushing harshly on them. I wanted to jump up and tell him to stop, but I didn’t know what he would do if I did. Charles didn’t budge the whole time. I guess he had already experienced it before. However, my first time was unnerving. I felt my eyes fill with tears several times. After a while, Pastor Simpson began to grow calmer as he started speaking English. Like at the dinner table, he kept talking about sex, lust and perversions. He cited several Bible verses that mentioned men having sex with men. Finally, he stepped back and stared at down at us. “Confess you sins,” he barked angrily. My eyes widened because I didn’t know what to say. “Admit your filthy perversions to our Lord God,” he insisted. “Ask him for his divine forgiveness.” When Charles and I remained silent, he shouted angrily, “Do it!” I started to cry. “I’m scared!” I sobbed. “I don’t know why you are doing this to us.” He knelt and looked into my tearful face. “I’m doing this so you can repent for your sins and avoid being cast into the fires of Hell.” “But I’ve done nothing,” I cried. I looked over at Charles, and he was also crying. “Liars!” he shouted. “Your parents tell me that you are both homosexuals.” “But I’m not,” I cried. Even though, I knew I was lying, I didn’t want him to think I was. If he did, he might treat us worse than what we were now experiencing. “I’ve been doing this for years,” he replied. “I know when a boy isn’t right with God.” He put his hand on my head, but I pulled it away. “Boy!” he shouted. “You have Satan within your soul.” I’m not even sure what happened next. He grabbed me by my shoulders and started lifting and tossing me around like I was a rag doll. He started speaking in that strange language again. I saw a movie once where a priest tried to exorcise a demon from a little girl. I think that is what he was trying to do to me. When Charles attempted to stop him, he began to do to him what he was doing to me. Both of us were trying to stop him, but he was much larger than us, and he was able to overpower us easily. I think I fainted from all the excitement. I don’t remember anything that happened next. When I awoke, I was lying in my bed. Mrs. Simpson had a cold wash rag pressed to my forehead. “It’s okay, Matthew,” she said softly. “God protects his little children. He’s watching over you.” When she saw I was alright, she kissed me on my forehead and left the room. I heard the door lock behind her. Charles rushed over to my bed and sat down. “God, Matt,” he asked worriedly. “Are you okay?” I tried to focus on his face, but it was blurry. I batted my eyes a few times, and my vision began to return. “What happened?” I asked as I attempted to sit up in bed. “Go slow,” warned Charles. He held my arm as I sat up and placed my feet on the floor. “You want some water?” “I gotta pee,” I said. It felt like my bladder was going to burst. When I stood, Charles gripped my arm and led me over to the bathroom. When I had trouble unzipping my pants, he bent down and loosened them for me. “Thanks,” I said as I pulled down my underwear and began to pee. Charles stood beside me and watched. When I looked at him, his eyes widened and he muttered softly, “Sorry.” “It’s okay,” I giggled. “But I really had to use it.” He stood looking down at my cock. When I finished, I shook it a few times. When I did, it began to harden. “I…I…better go,” stammered Charles as he continued to look at my erect cock. I giggled when I saw him rearrange the bulge that was growing in his pants. He turned and hurried from the room. I walked over and looked into the mirror. I didn’t recognize the boy looking back. My face was still badly bruised. The bruises were getting lighter, but it was obvious that I had been in a fight. My hair was unkempt, and my clothes looked ragged. I then remember that I hadn’t changed clothes in several days. I sniffed my underarm, and it smelled horrible. I quickly stripped off my clothes and jumped into the shower. The warm water felt soothing. There were soap and shampoo on the floor. After ten minutes, I stepped out. I looked for a towel, but I didn’t see any hanging on the towel rack. I looked in the cabinet under the sink, but I found none. “Just great,” I muttered to myself. I opened the door and hollered for Charles. “Do you know where the towels are?” He turned in his desk chair and stopped when he saw me standing naked in the doorway. Until a few days ago, I would never have stood naked in front of someone. Even in gym class, I never showered with the other guys. I dressed quickly and waited until I got home. But I guess lying naked in bed with Ricky had made me feel less embarrassed about my body. Besides, if Charles and I were going to share a room, we might as well be comfortable around each other. He tried to look away as he approached me, but he kept scanning my naked body. My face started to redden when I realized that I was enjoying him looking at me. Besides Ricky, no one had seen me naked since I was a little boy. Again, I started to get erect. “I…think…there are…some,” Charles stammered as he rushed past me and opened a small closet door. He reached in, pulled out a green towel and nervously handed it to me. “Here, Matt,” he said as he stared at my erection. I don’t have the biggest dick in the world, but I wasn’t ashamed of my six inches. Ricky sure seemed to enjoy it the night before. “Thanks,” I said appreciatively as I stepped over to my bed and dried myself off. Charles returned to his desk and pretended to write. Occasionally, he would turn to look at me. I walked over, bent down and opened one of the luggage my father had packed for me. I was hoping to find some clean underwear and clothes. After digging through it, I finally found something I could wear. As I dressed, I noticed that Charles continued to look over at me. When I finished, I walked over and sat down at my desk. “I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I hope I didn’t upset you.” He gave me a puzzled look. “Upset me?” I grinned and replied, “I’m sorry if I upset you walking around naked.” “No,” he smiled, “You didn’t upset me.” “Good,” I replied. I scooted closer to him and asked if he was doing homework for school. “No,” he stated, “I’m doing the lesson Pastor Simpson wants us to do.” I asked, “What lesson?” “Here, look,” he said as he pushed a piece of paper over to me. “We are supposed to copy these passages from the Bible. At tomorrow’s worship study after dinner, he’s going to ask us about them.” “Worship study?” I said excitedly. “That ain’t a worship study. He’s torturing us. Look what happened tonight.” “But we gotta do it,” replied Charles. “Why?” I asked as I got up and started pacing around the room. “We didn’t do anything wrong.” “There’s nothing we can do about it,” said Charles dejectedly. “Our parents want us to be here, and there isn’t anything we can do about it.” “Yes, we can,” I stated adamantly. Charles looked at me and shook his head. “Matt, there is nothing we can do about this. We just do what we are expected to do, and then maybe we can go home.” I started to pace again. “I don’t want to go back home,” I said adamantly. Charles gave me a puzzled look. “What are you going to do?” I sat down in my chair. “I haven’t decided yet. But I do know,” I said, “I’m not staying here, and I’m not going home.” Charles turned and started writing again. “You better do your lesson.” He pointed to the paper and pencil on the desk. A large Bible was already opened. I rose, walked over to my bed and lay down on my back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m not going to do it,” I replied as I crossed my arms and closed my eyes. “You’re going to make this worse for yourself,” muttered Charles. “One thing Pastor Simpson won’t stand is someone challenging him.” “Fuck, Pastor Simpson,” I said angrily as I rolled over on my side and fell asleep. I awoke when I heard rustling coming from the other side of the room. I rolled over and opened my eyes just in time to see Charles remove his underwear and walk naked into the bathroom. I wasn’t sure but I think he did it so I could see him. Surprisingly, he had a very nice body. Charles is small built, and he doesn’t play sports at school. However, he appeared to have some muscle. His chest, though not large, was well defined. His body was hairless except for a small tuft of hair above a small cock. I found him to be sexy. I also saw him as rather effeminate. However, naked, he looked like any teenage boy. When I heard the shower turn on, my dick began to harden as I imagined him standing naked under the water. I rose from bed and tiptoed to the door. I tried to open it, and it was unlocked. I opened it slightly so I could peek inside. The shower has a glass door, so I could see him lathering his hair through the steamy door. I reached down and started stroking myself. As I watched, I pulled off my shorts and underwear. I was hoping that Charles would take a long shower so I could cum. I pulled off my tee shirt so I could cum into it rather than shooting off onto the floor. As I was removing my shirt over my head, I heard the shower stop. I froze when Charles shouted out, “What are you doing?” The shower door was open, and he was standing looking angrily at me with his hands cupped around his dick. I didn’t know what to say. I had been caught. He asked again, “What are you doing, Matt?” His voice didn’t sound as angry. “I’m sorry,” I apologized as my face turned a bright red. “I…I…was just curious.” “Curious?” he asked. “Yeah,” I said embarrassedly. “I was wondering what you looked like naked.” “Why?” I guess it was time for the truth. I was standing naked at the door with a raging hard-on. There was no need to lie. Besides, what reasonable excuse could I come up with. “I just wanted to see what you looked like naked.” I let my eyes scan his naked body. He removed his hands and let me see him. “Happy,” he asked sarcastically. “Yeah,” I grinned. “You’ve got a nice body.” He let a small smile escape his mouth. “You ain’t too bad yourself.” “Really?” I asked excitedly. “You like my body.” “You’d do,” he grinned. I grinned back and replied, “You would too.” He got out of the shower, reached for a towel and started drying himself while I watched. “Want me to dry your back,” I offered. He hesitated before he handed me the towel and turned. I had never seen a naked boy’s ass before. Even when Ricky and I had sex, we did it on the bed, and I was more concerned with sucking his dick. I rubbed his chest, but I didn’t even think about rubbing him anywhere else. I took the towel and dried his back. I kept looking at his firm and rounded butt. I wanted to dry it, but I was afraid Charles might be upset if I did. I let the towel go lower and lower, and he didn’t object. Finally, I ran the towel over his mounds and into the crack of his ass. He let out a loud moan when I did. I moved closer and pressed my body to his. I thought he would move away, but instead he pushed his body into mine. My dick was pressed into the crack of his ass. I felt that I was going to explode at any minute. I pushed harder and began rubbing my dick against his soft skin. I then reached around and took his dick into my hand and started stroking it gently. He moaned again and fell back against me. For a second, I was afraid that he had passed out. He mumbled softly, “I’m scared, Matt. I’ve never done anything with a boy before.” “It’s okay,” I assured him. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He turned slowly, looked into my eyes and then kissed me gently. I wrapped my arms around him and held him in a gently embrace while we continued to kiss and grind our bodies together. Suddenly, he moaned loudly, and his body went rigid. I could feel his dick pulsing against my leg as he erupted. I could feel his cum running down my leg. I stepped back, started stroking myself, and within seconds I was shooting onto his stomach. Charles fell against me and breathed heavily. “Wow, Matt,” he sighed. “That was great.” I embraced him and said, “It was.” I held his face as I gave him a gentle kiss. Charles reached down and grabbed the towel off the floor. “We’d better get cleaned up,” he warned. “Pastor Simpson sometimes comes in for a bedtime prayer.” We wiped ourselves clean and then dressed hurriedly. We rushed over to our desks, sat down and started writing. Five minutes later, we heard the door unlock, and then Pastor Simpson peeked in, closed the door and locked it. Charles let out a huge sigh. “That was close,” he said softly. I could only imagine what he would have done if he had come in and seen us naked in the bathroom with our bodies pressed to each other. I looked at the worried face of Charles, and I knew he was thinking the same thing.
  6. Ronyx

    Chapter 6

    Pastor Simpson held the door open and said, “Come in, Matt.” “Why am I here?” I asked as I stood defiantly on the sidewalk. Pastor Simpson descended the stairs and grabbed my luggage. “We’ll discuss that later,” he replied as he trudged back up the stairs carrying my luggage. “Get the door for me,” he ordered. I opened the door and watched him walk inside. Hesitantly, I followed behind him. Pastor Simpson is a large man. He’s tall, and he looks like a retired basketball player. He must be about fifty years old, but I’m not very good at guessing people’s ages. He has a hard face. In all the years I’ve known him, I don’t think I have ever seen him smile. When he tries, it is obvious that it is forced. I guess preaching about sinners all the time has given him a bad outlook on life. You would think if he was such a Christian, he would be filled with love and compassion, but he seems to me to be filled with hate and resentment. The house was huge, much larger than ours. From the foyer I could see into the living room on the right and a dining room on the right. There were large religious pictures on the walls. Most appeared to be portraits of Jesus. One I recognized from a book I had seen in art class last year. It was a picture of a man touching the finger of God. It was on the ceiling of a church somewhere. Pastor Simpson continued down a wide hall. I trailed behind. He came to a room at the end and opened the door. “Here is where you will be staying, Matt. I hope you don’t mind, but you’ll be sharing the bedroom with another young man.” I looked around the room. As with all the rooms in the house, it was large. There were two twin beds on opposite walls. There was also a dresser with religious images on top. In between were two desks with lamps. There was a small sofa against another wall. And again, large religious pictures hung from the walls. The room was clean, but very dark and gloomy. Heavy blue drapes were blocking most of the sunlight from coming into the room. Pastor Simpson took my luggage and placed it on the bed to the left of the room. The bed on the right looked like it had been hastily made. The covers were crumpled and messy. I wondered who I might be sharing the room with. I crossed my arms and asked, “How long do I have to be here?” Pastor Simpson laughed and replied, “Relax, Matt. You haven’t been sentenced to jail. Your father will decide how long you stay based on my recommendations.” I asked skeptically, “What does that mean?” If my father decided when I had to return, then I might never be able to leave. He seemed like he didn’t want anything to do with me this morning. Pastor Simpson walked over and patted me on my shoulder. “Why don’t you unpack your belongings, and we’ll discuss this after dinner.” He looked at his watch and said, “I have to be at the church soon. I will see you later.” He turned and left the room. I jumped when I heard him lock the door. I hurried over and tried to open it, but it was locked. “What is going on?” I asked out loud. I tried to open the door again, but it wouldn’t open. ‘I’m a prisoner,’ I thought to myself. I rushed over to the window and threw back the heavy drapes. It faced the backyard, looking out into a wooded area. There were also bars on the window! “I am in prison,” I shouted. I tried to open the window, but it appeared to be bolted down. My heart began to pound. I was being held captive, and no one but my parents knew where I was. I could be murdered and buried in the wooded area, and who would look for me? For the first time in my life, I felt fearful. I sat on the side of the bed and wept. “I’m too young to die,” I sobbed. What had I done to deserve this? Maybe I had overreacted the other night when I told my parents that I hated them, and I wished they weren’t my parents. But I was angry with them. It still didn’t deserve the punishment I was going to receive. I had no idea what was going to happen to me. I didn’t know Pastor Simpson very well. I had attended a few of his services years ago, but he was the main reason I didn’t want to go back. He scared me. He was always shouting about how everyone is a sinner, and we were already destined to hell if we didn’t change our ways. At twelve, I couldn’t imagine what I had done wrong to go to such a place filled with fire and brimstone. I still don’t know what brimstone is, but I’m sure it is bad. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to unpack my things because then it would seem that I was going to stay. I walked over to the desks and looked around. What I assumed was my desk contained a Bible, a couple of pencils and two notebooks. I opened one, but it was empty. I hesitantly opened the one on the other desk and it contained writing. Scanning through it, it looked like passages from the Bible had been copied down. The handwriting was written in cursive and legible. Whoever wrote it seemed to take their time. As I flipped through the notebook, I stopped when I came to a page near the back. On it was written a passage from Roman 1:27, In the same way the men also abandoned natural relations with women and were inflamed with lust for one another. Men committed shameful acts with other men and received in themselves the due penalty for their error. I closed the book and sat on the side of the bed. I now knew why Dad had sent me here. He thought I was gay, and he wanted Pastor Simpson to change me. Whoever had written in the notebook must also be suspected of being gay. Pastor Simpson must have had him write those words to make him realize that being gay is a sin. I walked back over to the door and attempted to open it, but it was locked. I had to find a way to escape. There was no way I was going to stay and listen to Pastor Simpson tell me how bad a person I am because my dad thinks I am gay. Even now, I’m still not sure. I guess after what me and Ricky did last night kind of confirms it, I may decide tomorrow that it was all a big mistake. Tears again filled my eyes as I imagined what my life was going to be like until my father decides that I have changed. I lay on the bed and cried myself to sleep. I awoke about an hour later, and I had to use the bathroom. I went to the door and pounded on it, but no one answered. Either no one was home, or they were ignoring me. I walked around the room, and I considered peeing into the trashcan beside the desk. I noticed a couple of doors I thought were closets. Fortunately, one was a bathroom. I rushed in, pulled down my pants and relieved myself. When I was done, I looked around the room. It was bare except for a linen closet with fresh towels. I looked into the medicine cabinet, but it too contained little. There was a toothbrush, toothpaste and deodorant. I assumed they belonged to the other person in the room. I was hoping I could find some pills. If I did, I was going to take them. That would serve my father right if they found me dead. However, he just might be happy that he no longer had to put up with me. I went back to my bed and sat down. I thought, how can parents just give up their son so easily, especially when I hadn’t really done anything bad. I told them I hated them, but what teenager hasn’t yelled that at some time in their life? I did everything they ever asked me to do without complaining. Well, except for attending church with them. Besides, I knew that complaining would be useless. They didn’t care how I felt about things. They decided, and it was my duty to comply. Now, I’m afraid I may never be able to return home. I’m only sixteen, and I have nowhere else to go. I know I can’t stay here. I’m a prisoner locked inside a bedroom. I don’t even know where I am. I was so upset with Dad when he picked me up at Ricky’s house, I really didn’t pay attention when he was driving. I know it isn’t far from where we live, but it still would be a long walk, and I would probably get lost trying to find my way back. I don’t have any relatives I can live with. My parents don’t have anything to do with them because they think they live bad lifestyles. I’ve met my grandparents a couple of times. They usually leave after getting into a fight with my father about one thing or another. Once, his parents left the dinner table when they got into an argument with Dad about something happening in Israel. I didn’t understand it, but I know it made my grandparents mad. They went to their room, packed and left. I haven’t seen them since. My mother’s parents are treated even worse. I guess my mother was born before they got married. She accused them once of having to live with a shameful birth that God condemned, and now she has to atone for their sin. I don’t understand it because they both seem like really great people. But according to my Mom, they will be going to hell because of her. They both have brothers and sisters, but they never visit. I never thought it was very Christian to turn your back on your blood relatives, but if I had said something, I would have been punished. I jumped when I heard the front door slam shut. Pastor Simpson must be returning from his meeting. I then heard footsteps coming down the hall. It sounded like two people. My heart started racing because I thought my dad might be with him. I froze when I heard the keys in the door, and the door unlocked. Suddenly, the door opened, and… Charles Ward walked in. He was followed by Pastor Simpson. He stopped suddenly when he saw me sitting on the bed. His eyes widened, and he looked quickly at Pastor Simpson. “Matt,” he ordered, “Stand up.” I stood as he approached. “This is Charles,” he said. “You two will be rooming together.” “But, Sir,” Charles started to speak, but he was interrupted by Pastor Simpson. “You boys get to know one another,” he said as he headed toward the door. Before leaving he turned and announced, “Dinner is at six. We’ll have our prayer session immediately after that. Then you boys can complete your written assignments.” When he left, he locked the door. Charles gave me a puzzled look and asked, “What are you doing here, Matt?” “I don’t know,” I replied. “I think I’ve been kidnapped or something.” I went over to the bed and sat down. Charles hesitated before he came over and sat down beside me.” “What are we doing here?” I asked worriedly. I was hoping he could at least make some sense of what is going on. Charles looked at me and responded, “We’re being deprogrammed.” I asked worriedly, “What’s that?” I didn’t like the look in his face when he said it. It gave me a feeling of doom. “You’ll find out,” he said as he rose and walked over to his desk and sat down. I rose and followed him. “What do you mean we’re being deprogrammed? For what?” He swung in the chair and stared into my face. “Are you gay?” “What?” I asked. “Am I gay?” “Yes,” he replied. “You must be, or you wouldn’t be here.” I sat in the chair at the next desk. “What are you talking about?” He sighed and replied, “Pastor Simpson does gay conversion therapy here. He is trying to make me straight.” Tears filled his eyes, and he began to cry. “There’s nothing wrong with me, but he makes me sound like I’m some kind of a beast.” I wanted to reach out and hold him, but I didn’t. I asked worriedly, “What’s he do to you?” Charles wiped the tears from his eyes. “You’ll see,” he replied. “After dinner he is going to hold a prayer meeting. Sometimes it gets pretty scary. Then he’s going to make us come back up here and copy passages from the Bible.” He reached for the notebook and held it up and showed me. Since I had read it earlier, I knew what it said. “Is he allowed to do that?” I asked worriedly. “I thought things like that were against the law.” “Not if your parents signed forms to let him like mine did.” “What?” I rose and started pacing around the room. “You mean my parents gave him permission to do this?” He sadly nodded his head. I returned to my seat and sat down. I pulled my chair nearer to his. I stared into his face. Charles is very pretty. His complexion is light brown and flawless. It looks like silk. He has dark brown eyes, long eye lashes and dark eyebrows that looked like they had been sculptured to his forehead. Since he is a sophomore like me, I assume that he is sixteen. Looking at him up closely, he appears to me to be around fourteen. I don’t know why I had never noticed him before. But then again, I wasn’t exactly looking at any other boy. I hadn’t even picked up that my best friend is gay. He noticed me staring and smiled. He reached out and touched the side of my face. “Is this what James did to you yesterday?” I nodded. “Does it hurt?” he asked as he gently touched my bruise. “A little,” I said, “but not as much as last night.” “Thanks for helping me,” he smiled slightly. “You really didn’t have to. I’m used to boys like James picking on me.” “But it was wrong,” I said angrily. “You weren’t doing anything.” Tears welled up in his beautiful brown eyes. “I exist in their world, and boys like James feel threatened.” “I don’t understand,” I said. He replied tearfully, “You will.” We sat for minute and just looked at each other. Charles reached out and ran his finger around the dark bruise on my face. I closed my eyes and felt his gentle caress. “I’m really sorry you had to suffer for trying to protect me.” “It was nothing,” I smiled. “I would do it all again if I had to.” He reached down and gripped my hand. “Are you gay?” I answered, “I don’t know.” He gave me a puzzled look and asked, “What do you mean you don’t know?” “I don’t know,” I said as I looked down at his hand holding mine. “Until a couple of days ago I didn’t think I was.” “I’m not following you,” he responded. “What happened?” I said, “I’d rather not say. Something happened and now I’m not sure.” “Is it Ricky?” he asked. “What!” I said excitedly. “Why did you ask me that?” He smiled and said, “Ricky talked to me at school yesterday.” I suddenly remembered seeing them walking down the hall together. “He came out to me, and he said something happened that he regretted.” He gripped my hand tighter. “It just makes sense that something happened between you. I’ve seen how close you have been since grade school.” “What did he tell you?” “I told you, nothing,” he replied. “But since both of you now seem to be coming out at the same time, I figured something must have happened.” I hung my head and confessed, “Ricky kissed me.” Charles laughed and said, “That’s it? I figured you guys have been doing some stuff for years.” “No,” I replied. “We’ve never thought about it until the other day.” Charles asked, “So Ricky kissed you, and now both of you think you’re gay?” I shrugged my shoulders. “Ricky and I talked last night. I guess he’s known he is gay for a few years. He was just afraid to tell me.” “And now you think you’re gay too?” “No,” I blurted out, “Not after what happened last night.” He raised his eyebrow and grinned. “And what happened last night?” He laughed as my face turned a bright red. “Nothing,” I stammered. “Forget I said that.” “Okay,” he laughed as he squeezed my hand tightly. I had almost forgotten that we were still holding hands. He gave me a mischievous grin. “But someday I’m going to make you tell me.” We both sat back and laughed. He stopped and gave me a serious look. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here. Why did your parents bring you to Pastor Simpson’s house? I was reluctant to tell Charles that he was the reason. Finally, I confessed, “My dad and I got into a big fight over you.” “Me?” he asked excitedly. “What do I have to do with it?” I then explained how I had told them how I got the bruise by protecting him. It was embarrassing to tell him what my father had said about him, and how he had told me that he thought that I should have let James bully him. “I get that a lot,” he responded sadly. “Sometimes adults can be worse than kids our age.” He gave me a puzzled look. “I still don’t see what you did that made them send you here.” I replied, “I got tired of hearing his crap, so I told him I hated him. I told them I wish they weren’t my parents. Then, I ran away.” “You ran away?” I giggled, “If you want to call going to the library running away.” Then I told him about Ricky coming to the library and taking me home with him, and that I spent the night with him. “I see,” he responded with a mischievous grin. “So, you spent the night with him, and now you know you’re gay?” I released his hand and gave him a gentle shove. “Shut up.” I rose and walked around the room. I knew if we continued the conversation, I would tell him just what Ricky and I had done. I paced around a minute, and then returned to my seat. “Why are you here?” I asked Charles. Tears welled up in his eyes. “My parents don’t want a gay son,” he replied sadly. “They are hoping that Pastor Simpson can change me and make me straight.” “That’s crazy,” I replied angrily. “He can’t do that.” “Wait until tonight,” said Charles. “It’s almost like torture.” I asked worriedly, “Does he hit you?” “No,” he replied. “But sometimes I wish he would so I could have him arrested. But he scares me. He really believes that God is going to make me straight. He gets to praying and shouting so loud that I almost pee my pants.” “Wow,” I said worriedly. When I was little, his sermons made me feel the same way. I had stopped attending church because of it. Now, my parents were submitting to one of the worse punishments I could imagine. “Then when we get through praying,” he explained, “I have to come to my room and copy passages from the Bible that talk about how bad being gay is. Sometimes I have to copy them twenty-five or thirty times.” “How long have you been here?” “About a week,” he replied. “He takes me to school, and then he picks me up when I get out. That’s why I had to leave the other day when James and you got into a fight. If I’m late, he’ll make me do extra writing.” “Have you seen your parents since you’ve been here?” Tears again welled up in his eyes. “No,” he cried softly. “I don’t think they want me to come home anymore.” I leaned over and took him in my arms as he continued to cry. He cried for a few minutes before sitting up and wiping his eyes dry. “Thanks,” he said as he looked at me and smiled gently. “I’m glad you’re hear. I was about ready to lose my mind.” Suddenly, we heard footsteps coming up the stairs. We rushed to our beds and sat on the edge. To Pastor Simpson, it would just appear like we were talking across the room. He opened the door and stepped in. “Dinner is ready, Boys.” We followed him out the door and down the stairs.
  7. Ronyx

    Chapter 5

    I rolled over with my back to Ricky. “I’m gay, Matt.” How was I supposed to respond? I had known for days he is gay. He wouldn’t have kissed me if he isn’t. But now, he just came out to me, and I don’t know how to react. I just thought it was something we would never talk about, but he changed that. He rolled on his side facing me. I could feel his breath on my neck. “Did you hear me, Matt?” he whispered softly. I nodded my head and replied, “Yeah, I heard you.” “And?” I rolled over and faced him. His eyes were wet with tears. “And what?” I asked. “What do you want me to say?” He smiled slightly and replied, “I was hoping you would say it’s okay, and that we are still friends.” “Is that why you kissed me?” He frowned and looked away. “It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have done that.” “But why did you?” He looked into my face. “I don’t know. When we got to wrestling around, I looked into your eyes and suddenly wanted to kiss you. I guess I wanted to show you how I feel about you.” “Are you in love with me?” “No,” he replied. “At least I don’t think I am like the way you’re thinking.” He rolled on his back and sat up against the bed. “I mean, we’ve been so close for so long.” He looked down and smiled. “We’re like the closet brothers ever.” I smiled and nodded. “I started thinking last year that I might be gay,” he continued softly. “I wanted to talk to you about it, but I was afraid I’d lose you.” I repositioned myself and sat beside him. “You could have,” I assured him. “But you started dating Stephanie, and I thought you wouldn’t understand,” he said. I replied, “I think I would understand more than you think.” Ricky gave me a puzzled look and asked, “What does that mean?” My face reddened as I replied, “I dunno.” I didn’t want to confess to him that I had been feeling the same way the past couple of days. He stared into my face, “You’re not gay too, are you Matt?” “No,” I replied. “I don’t think so.” “What’s that mean? You don’t think so?” I rested my head against the wall and sighed. “I don’t know. After you kissed me the other night, I got to thinking.” “Thinking about what?” I shrugged my shoulders. “I dunno.” My face reddened deeper. “I thought maybe I liked it.” Ricky asked excitedly, “You did!” I sighed again before answering. I knew I shouldn’t be telling Ricky how I felt, but I needed to talk to someone, and I trusted him. “At first it made me mad,” I confessed. “But later I got to thinking about it, and it didn’t bother me so much. Then…” “Then what?” “Then I got to thinking why it didn’t bother me, and I thought that…” “That you might be gay?” Tears began to form in my eyes. “Maybe. I don’t know.” Ricky reached out and pulled me into a hug as I began to cry. My secret was now out. “It’s okay,” he said soothingly as he pressed his head to my neck and gently kissed it. “There’s nothing wrong with us.” “Tell that to my parents,” I cried. “They’ll hate me when they find out.” “No, they won’t,” replied Ricky. “My parents were okay when I told them.” I pulled away and looked Ricky in the face. “You told your parents?” I asked in astonishment. “When?” “After I kissed you,” he replied. “I thought you would get upset and tell them what I did. I wanted them to hear it from me first.” I said excitedly, “You told your parents you kissed me?” “No,” he smiled. “I just told them I was gay. That way if you told them something happened, then it wouldn’t be a shock.” “I would never have told them,” I assured him. He reached out and took my hand. “So, what are we going to do now?” “I dunno,” I replied. “I know I can’t tell my parents. They won’t understand like your mom and dad.” “What about us?” he asked. “What do you mean?” He stared into my face. “I’ve wanted to do stuff with you for so long. Do you know how hard it is to be around you all the time and not tell you how I feel about you?” I shook my head. “I’ve given this some thought the past couple of days.” “And?” I looked down and realized that we were still holding hands. I gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re like a brother to me. I love you,” I said, “but I’m not sure it can ever be anything more.” He rested his head back and sighed. “I was afraid you would say that.” “But we can still be good friends.” “Right,” he said sadly. “Good friends.” He lay back down on the bed. “We’d better get some sleep. It’s getting late.” I could hear the sadness in his voice. He had just confessed that he loved me, but I rejected him. I still wanted us to be best friends, but now I had a feeling that I was losing him again. I lay down and pulled the sheet over me. He turned out the light, and we lay silently. I could hear his heavy breathing. I rolled over and turned away from him. A minute later, he turned and lay beside me. I could feel his bare chest touching me lightly. “Matt?” he whispered softly. “Yeah, Ricky?” “Can we be friends with benefits?” Even though I had a good idea what he was asking, I still wasn’t sure. “What’s that mean?” He put his arm around me and started rubbing my chest. “I don’t know,” he replied nervously. “I just thought that we could just do stuff. You know?” I could feel my cock begin hardening as he rubbed my chest and breathed heavily into my neck. A couple of times he kissed it gently. “I…I…don’t know,” I said nervously. I knew where this was heading, but I didn’t have the will to make it stop. In fact, I didn’t want it to stop. I gasped when Ricky reached down and grabbed my erection. I was harder than I think I had ever been. He gave it a couple of strokes, and then he snuck his hand into my shorts and began to jerk me off slowly. As he did, he continued to kiss my neck. “Ricky,” I said hoarsely, “We should stop.” However, I made no attempt to grab his hand or move away. “It’s okay, Matt,” he said soothingly. “I would never hurt you.” He continued to jerk me off slowly. He then asked, “Do you want me to stop?” When I didn’t answer, he pulled the sheet back and looked at my erection in his hand. “It’s so beautiful,” he said admiringly. “I’ve wanted to do this for years.” He then leaned down and took it in his mouth and started sucking me.” “Oh!” I moaned. He giggled and continued to suck me. I had never felt anything so wonderful in my life. It felt nothing like when I did it alone at night. After a couple of minutes, I could feel that I was going to cum. I warned Ricky, but he continued to suck me. My body became rigid when I came in his mouth, and I saw stars. He swallowed quickly the cum that exploded from me. When he finished, he sat up, looked at me and smiled. “Well,” he asked. “Can we?” “Can we what?” I asked breathlessly. He giggled and said, “Be friends with benefits?” I smiled and replied, “I like the benefits.” “Good,” he said as he leaned in and gave me a quick kiss. This time I didn’t feel guilty. We lay down and Ricky snuggled next to me. It felt good. After so many years of feeling alone, it felt nice to have someone’s body pressing against mine. I didn’t think that what we did was wrong. It was something we both wanted, and I didn’t feel like Ricky forced me into doing it. In fact, I don’t think I could have stopped him once we started. I still don’t think I want Ricky as a boyfriend. But who knows? Maybe I’ll change my mind. Right now, I have too many other things to think about. Tonight opened a new door, and I wasn’t afraid what was inside. I was almost asleep when Ricky rolled over on his back, removed the sheet, pulled down his shorts and started to jerk off. I couldn’t believe he was going to do it in front of me. But then, just a few minutes ago he sucked me off. “What are you doing?” I whispered. “I’m horny,” he replied excitedly as he continued to masturbate. I lifted myself on my elbow and watched him. I could feel myself begin to harden again. He looked over with pleading eyes and begged, “Will you do it for me?” My eyes widened in surprise. I had never thought about holding another guy’s cock. “I don’t know,” I confessed. “I’ve never done it before.” He giggled and replied, “I never sucked a dick before until tonight.” “Really?” As good as he had done it, I figured he must have had practice. “Come on, Matt,” he begged as he gently took my hand. “Just jerk me off. You don’t have to do anything else.” “Okay.” Hesitantly, I took his hard cock in my hand. We were about the same size. It must have been about six inches long. He moaned when I started to run my hand up and down his shaft. “God, Matt,” he moaned. “That feels good.” He began to hump my hand as I jerked him. Okay, I have to admit, I was curious. It is my first time seeing a hard cock. Since I don’t have a computer, I’ve never seen one online. I’ve seen Ricky and other guys in the locker room before, but no one was ever hard. I leaned over and looked at it carefully. Ricky is cut, like me. It was difficult to tell what it looked like in the dark, but he appeared to have a large mushroom head. The tip of it glistened with cum. Before I realized what I was doing, I leaned in and licked it off. I was curious what it tasted like. I had tasted mine before, but it didn’t have any kind of a taste. Ricky’s was sweet. “Oh God!” he moaned as he lifted his body up, forcing an inch or two into my mouth. It surprised me at first, but I closed my mouth and tried to imitate what he had done to me earlier. He was moaning loudly, and I was afraid his parents would hear us and know what we were doing. “Shhhh,” I removed my mouth and giggled. “You’re going to wake up the neighborhood.” “But it feels so good,” he moaned softly. “No one has ever done this to me before.” His comment made me burst with pride. He had given me my first sexual experience, and now I was returning the favor. From his moans, I must be doing a decent job. I continued to suck him. My teeth scrapped against his skin a few times, but he didn’t seem to mind. Suddenly, he grabbed my head and forced me to remove my mouth. “I’m going to cum!” I watched as Ricky shot several times into the air and then landed on his stomach and chest. One volley hit his upper lip. Either he cums like that all the time, or he had been holding it for several days. When he finished, he put his hand on my shoulder and tried to catch his breath. “Feel good?” I giggled. “You have no idea,” he muttered. He reached under the bed and grabbed a towel. I started laughing. “You leave it under your bed?” “Yeah, sure,” he said. “Don’t you?” “And let my mother find it?” I replied. “I don’t think so.” “What do you do with yours then?” I giggled and said, “I do it when I’m taking a shower. It goes down the drain?” He pulled me toward him and kissed me gently. “Thanks, Matt. You’re a good friend.” “You’re not so bad yourself,” I said as I returned his kiss. We lay back, and I rolled on my side. Ricky threw his arm around me, and we fell asleep. It was the best sleep I had in years. The alarm clock woke us up. Ricky was still spooned against my body. He felt warm. I didn’t want to get out of bed. I wanted to stay like this the rest of the day. Ricky rubbed the sleep from his eyes and gave me a quick kiss. “We better get up or we’ll be late for school.” His cock was hard as he jumped out of bed. He grabbed and shook it before heading to the bathroom. I wanted to take a shower, but I knew we were running late. I quickly dressed into the clothes I had worn the day before and sat on the bed waiting for Ricky to return. He was naked when he entered the room. He had taken a shower, and he was drying his hair with a towel. I sat and admired his body. I couldn’t believe that a few hours earlier, I had sucked him. “Like what you see,” he giggled when he saw my eyes riveted to his cock. “Yeah,” I admitted. “I like it a lot.” He came over and sat down beside me. “Just think, Matt. We could have been doing this all along if we had just told each other we were gay.” I replied, “I really didn’t know until last night.” “Really?” he asked surprisedly. “You never knew?” I shrugged my shoulders. “I guess I never thought about it. You know how my parents are.” He nodded his head. “In fact, I never thought about sex at all.” He gave me a puzzled look. “You never thought about having sex with Stephanie? I thought you guys were already doing it.” “No,” I admitted. “We’ve never done anything but kiss a few times.” He grinned and asked, “Who’s a better kisser? Me or her?” I laughed and replied, “You are.” He smiled and leaned in and kissed me again. Suddenly, Ricky’s father hollered up the stairs. “Boys, hurry up!” We jumped from the bed. “We’d better get downstairs,” said Ricky. “Will you come over tonight?” I shrugged my shoulders, “I dunno. Probably not. My parents will ground me for the way I acted last night.” He gave me a worried look. “What did you do?” “I’ll tell you later.” I gave him a quick kiss before heading out the door. Ricky’s father was waiting for us at the bottom of the steps. He had a worried look on his face. “Ricky,” he ordered. “You go into the kitchen while Matt comes into the family room with me.” “What’s wrong Dad?” asked Ricky. He replied, “Matt’s father is waiting to see him.” I said excitedly, “What! What’s he doing here?” He replied, “He wants to talk to you.” He put his hand on my shoulder and led me toward the family room. When Ricky started to follow, his father asked him to go to the kitchen. He gave me a worried look before leaving. My father was sitting on the sofa when I entered. He looked up and gave me a harsh look. I knew the look. I had seen it many times when I was about to get punished for something. I’m sure my outburst last night had upset him and my mother. He rose and said angrily, “It’s about time you came down.” He pointed toward the door. “Go get in my car.” “Why?” I asked. “I have to go to school.” “You’re going nowhere,” he stated adamantly. “You’re going with me.” “Now, Jeff,” said Mr. Fowles to my father. “Why don’t we sit down and talk about this.” He looked over and gave me a worried look. “I don’t mean to be rude,” spat my father, “but this is a family matter. It doesn’t concern you.” He turned to me again and ordered, “Go get in the car.” I walked out into the foyer. Ricky was peeking from the kitchen at me. “I’ll see you later,” I said as I opened the door and headed out to my father’s car. He came out a few minutes later. Mr. Fowles was talking to him, but my father seemed to be ignoring him. As I was getting into my father’s car, I noticed several pieces of luggage in the back seat. I couldn’t figure out what they why they were there. Was my father going on a trip and taking me to school before he left? He got in and slammed the door shut. When we turned left at the intersection, I knew he wasn’t taking me to school. “Where are we going?” I asked. I looked over and he had a cold and expressionless look on his face. I waited for an answer, but he ignored me. We headed out of town. I was becoming more worried with each mile that passed. If we weren’t going to school or going home, then where were we going? He drove for about fifteen minutes until he came to a driveway that led to a large home in a wooded area. “Where are we?” I asked, but he again ignored me. The home had a circular driveway that led to a front entrance with two large pillars. It reminded me of Southern homes I had seen in movies. He stopped and got out. He walked around to the passenger back seat and pulled out two large suitcases and placed them on the ground. I got out and asked, “What is going on?” He turned and scowled angrily at me. “Since you hate me and your mother so much, then maybe it is best that you find somewhere else to live for a while.” “What! What are you doing, Dad?” I asked worriedly. I was becoming scared. He and Mom were going to get rid of me for the way I had acted the night before. Just then, I looked at the double doors of the entrance to the home. Pastor Simpson came out, stood on the top stair and smiled as he looked down at me. My father grabbed my shoulders and pushed me toward the stairs. “Here he is, Pastor Simpson,” he spat angrily. “See if you can do something with him.” Tears filled my eyes as my father got into the car and drove away.
  8. Ronyx

    Chapter 4

    I fell asleep for about an hour. When I awoke, the right side of my head was throbbing. I almost passed out when I tried to sit up. I made my way across the hall to the bathroom. My eye looked worse than it had earlier. The bruise was darker and redder, and I was afraid that if I touched it, it might burst open. I was heading back to my room when my father hollered angrily from downstairs. “Matt, dinner is ready.” I considered going back to my room and locking the door. However, I was afraid he might bust it down if he had to come up to get me. My father isn’t normally a violent man. Usually, when he gets mad, he’ll close his eyes and appear to pray. Then, he’ll take a deep breath and forget whatever upset him. However, today he seemed like a stranger to me. I had never seen him so mad. He has never hit me, but I’m not really sure what he might do if he thinks that I am ‘one of them.’ I can still remember the nasty tone he used when he referred to Charles that way. I entered the kitchen, and Mom and Dad were already seated. Dad ignored me, but Mom was shocked by my appearance. She started to get up, but my father cleared his throat, and she sat back down. She reached over and grabbed my hand. “Let us pray,” she said. My father usually takes my other hand, but tonight he didn’t. She began by blessing the food, but then she started praying to Jesus about wayward children, and how we were becoming disobedient and rebellious. I quicky pulled my hand away from hers, but she reached for it and gripped it more tightly. “I pray, Heavenly Father, that you show Matt your love and direct him toward a path of righteousness.” My father replied with a strong, “Amen.” “Don’t let him take a sinful path of lust and debauchery.” I pulled my hand away. I stood and shouted, “I’ve had it!” Tears started to flow from my face. “Look at me! Look at my face! I’m in pain, and all you can pray about is you think I’m a queer?” My father slammed his hand on the table, “Sit down, Matt!” “I won’t!” I shouted back. “You don’t love me! You hate me!” I upset my chair, and it toppled onto the glass cabinet behind me. Glass shattered to the ground. I looked angrily at them. “Well, I hate you too!” With tears streaming down my face, I rushed to the patio door, pulled it open, turned and shouted, “I wish you weren’t my parents!” I hurried as fast as I could down the stairs and raced down the sidewalk. I could hear my mother shouting my name behind me. I must have run four blocks before I stopped, bent over and tried to catch my breath. Tears were dropping onto the pavement below. I couldn’t help thinking that my life was over. I had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed. I knew there was no way I could ever go home after what I had said. What was happening to me? None of it made any sense. How could my life spin so out of control in a couple of days? And the sad thing is, I had done nothing to cause it. It started with Ricky kissing me. I didn’t kiss him. Yet everything seemed to have begun when that happened. Now, he won’t even talk to me. And I didn’t fight James, he hit me. All I did was tell him to leave Charles alone when he was picking on him. Yet I’m the one he hit. The right side of my head hurts so bad, I can hardly stand it. Running didn’t help. All it did was make my head throb even more. But what I had I done? Nothing! I got upset when my parents began thinking that I am gay simply because I tried to defend a gay boy at school. I would think they should have been proud of me. I did the righteous thing. I didn’t turn my back on someone who needed help. However, they didn’t see it that way. Dad saw me as a pervert because I helped someone who he considers a pervert. And not once did either of them show any concern for me. Mom seemed to care when she first saw me, but my father let her know right away not to show me any affection or care. Following my father’s lead, she started to pray for my sinful soul. She could at least have prayed that my eye heals. As far as I know, I could be blind. It is swollen so much I can’t even see out of it. But did they care? No. All they cared about was that I might be gay. I slowly started making my way down the sidewalk. I had no idea where I could go. In the past, I would have gone to Ricky’s house. But now, he doesn’t want me to be his friend anymore. Every time I heard a car approaching, I turned to make sure it wasn’t Dad driving around trying to find me. In a way, I was disappointed that he didn’t care enough about me to search for me. I passed a park, but too many kids were playing. Two girls about five saw me pass, and they pointed at me and began to giggle at my swollen face. Even at a young age, kids can be cruel. I walked a few more blocks until I came to the public library. It seemed like a safe place to hide. When I entered, the librarian behind the desk rose and approached me. “Are you okay, Son?” she asked. She held the side of my face and examined my bruises. “How did this happen? She asked with concern. “Did you get into a fight? Would you like me to call the police?” “No, Ma’am,” I replied tearfully. “I’m okay.” I looked around the library. “Do you have a copy of Grapes of Wrath? I’m supposed to read it for a school assignment.” She smiled slightly and replied, “Of course. However, it would probably be better to read it on a computer rather than a hard copy.” She took my hand and led me across the room to a computer table. She sat down and pulled up the story. “Sit down,” she said. “You’ll have to find the chapter you want.” “Thank you, Ma’am,” I responded politely. She seemed to be really concerned about me. However, I was afraid that she might call the police once she returned to her desk. It was difficult to read with one eye, and the right side of my head was still pounding. I considered leaving and going to the hospital to let someone look at it, but then they would call Dad, and right now he was the last person I wanted to see. I looked up when I noticed someone approaching. It was Robbie Henderson, a friend from school. We had attended classes since the seventh grade, but we didn’t hang with each other outside of school. “Whew! Look at you, Matt,” he said excitedly as he sat down beside me. He giggled and asked, “What does the other guy look like?” “I’m reading,” I said rudely, hoping that he would go away. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about how I had gotten a bruised face. “I’m sorry, Matt,” he apologized quickly. “Is there anything I can do?” “I’m okay,” I responded politely. I pointed to the screen. “I just got to get this story read for Mr. Harper’s class.” “Grapes of Wrath?” he asked. When I nodded, he added, “Boring book.” I smiled and nodded again. He asked, “What did Ricky say about your shiner?” I shrugged my shoulders. Everyone at school knows that Ricky and I are best friends, so it didn’t surprise me when Robbie asked. In fact, I would probably get similar questions asked about Ricky or Stephanie. When I didn’t say anything, he asked, “Ricky didn’t do that, did he?” “No,” I replied. “He hasn’t seen it.” Robbie studied me for a few more seconds. I know he had more to ask, but he could tell I didn’t want to talk about it. “I guess I’ll see you later, Matt.” He started to walk away but stopped. “You should get a doctor to look at that. It looks pretty bad.” “Yeah, sure,” I replied, and then I continued reading. Twenty minutes later, I looked over toward the entrance, and Robbie was crossing the library with Ricky following behind him! My heart started pounding, and I felt sick to my stomach. The last person I wanted to see was Ricky. Robbie stopped beside me and pointed at my face. “See, Ricky. I told you.” I looked into Ricky’s eyes, and he seemed ready to burst into tears. I looked down at the computer screen as tears filled my left eye. Ricky sat down beside me and scooted his seat closer to me. “Who did this Matt?” he asked worriedly. “Who hit you?” I don’t know why, but I suddenly lost it. I began to cry uncontrollably. When Ricky reached out for me, I fell against his chest and wept. I heard Robbie mutter, “God, Matt. What is wrong?” Ricky held me as I cried. I couldn’t help it. Maybe it was because I missed him. Maybe Ricky is the only person who ever cared about me. All I knew then, was that I wanted him to hold me. The librarian approached and asked if I was alright. She asked if she should call my parents or the police, and Ricky told her that I would be okay. She walked away, but I was still concerned that she would call the police since she had been watching me closely all night. Robbie said, “I’ve got to head home. I’ll let you guys be alone.” He asked, “Matt, are you going to be okay.” “Yeah,” I muttered weakly into Ricky’s chest. “I’m going to be alright now.” When Robbie left, Ricky pulled me into a tighter hug. “It’s okay, Matt,” he assured me. He rubbed my back gently and said, “You’ll be okay, now.” He held me silently a few more minutes before I pulled away. I wiped tears from my left eye. My right eye was too tender to touch. Ricky stared worriedly at me. “Thanks,” I said appreciatively. It seemed like the past couple of days had disappeared. My best friend was by my side when I needed him the most. Ricky looked around the room to see if anyone was watching us. “Maybe we should leave,” he suggested. He looked at the librarian. “I think she may have called the cops.” I nodded and turned off the computer monitor. When I stood, Ricky put his arm around my waist to steady me. I waved at the librarian as we left. She gave us a concerned look and followed us to the door. We started walking down the sidewalk, and I rested my head on Ricky’s shoulder. We didn’t speak as we headed in the direction of his home. I was too emotionally drained to say anything. My head on Ricky’s shoulder made me feel safe. When we entered his house, he hollered out, “Dad! Mom! Come here quick!” Seconds later, his parents appeared in the foyer. “Oh, God!” his mother wailed when she saw me. She approached, took my arm and led me into the family room. Ricky’s brothers and sister were watching a movie on television. They stood and began asking what was happening. Ricky’s father told them to go to their rooms and stay there. Ricky’s mother led me over to a leather sofa. I dropped onto it while she sat beside me and examined my eye. She looked worriedly at her husband. “I think he needs to go to the hospital.” “No!” I shouted. “I’ll be okay.” “It looks bad, Dear,” she insisted. “Do your parents know about this?” I nodded my head. “Didn’t they think it should be seen by a doctor.” When I shrugged my shoulders, she looked worriedly at Ricky’s dad. They knew what I endured at home. They knew how religiously strict my parents were. I usually spent Sunday mornings at their house when my parents went to church. They also knew that my parents had disapproved of many places they wanted to take me because they thought it might have a negative influence on me. One time they wanted take Ricky and me to see a Harry Potter movie, but they refused to let me go because they thought it promoted witchcraft. Mrs. Fowler rose and disappeared from the room. Ricky instantly sat down beside me and grabbed my hand. I started to pull away, but I didn’t. I looked quickly at Ricky’s dad, but he didn’t seem to care. I looked into Ricky’s tearful eyes. He appeared ready to bust out crying at any moment. We sat looking at each other and smiling slightly. I think we were both feeling the same thing. Why had we let the last couple of days happen? How had we tried to convince ourselves we were no longer friends. I reached out and pulled him into a hug. If his father hadn’t been watching us closely, I might have kissed him. Ricky’s mother returned with a handful of medicine. She began to gently daub some cream onto the right side of my face. I thought it would burn, but it felt soothing. “This is some antibiotic,” she explained. “Hopefully, it will help the bruising heal.” She then looked worriedly at me. “Perhaps, I should call your mother.” “It won’t do any good,” I responded. “She already saw it and she didn’t care.” Mrs. Fowler turned and looked worriedly at her husband. He rose from his chair and headed toward the kitchen. She turned to Ricky. “Take Matt to your room and let him rest.” She looked softly at me and asked, “Would you like to spend the night with Ricky?” I returned her smile and nodded. I was glad that I wouldn’t have to confront my parents, at least for one night. I’m sure at some point I’ll have to return and face their wrath. It wouldn’t be the grapes of wrath I’ll be facing. It will be God’s wrath. Ricky helped me down the hall to his bedroom. Stevie and Martin were watching television. He told them to go to the family room to finish watching their show. They grumbled as they headed out the door. Ricky walked over, closed the door and locked it. I toed off my shoes and lay down on his bed. He hesitated before he came over and sat down beside me. It surprised me when he reached out and held my hand, but I didn’t pull away. I gripped it tightly. He looked worriedly at me and asked, “You want to tell me what happened?” For the next few minutes, I told him how James had harassed Charles in the hall, and then how I had been hit for interfering. When I finished Ricky responded, “I thought that is what happened. Charles told me James had hit you, but he didn’t stay around to see how bad you were hurt.” I gave him a surprised look. “Charles told you what happened? When?” Ricky sighed and explained. “I was waiting outside school when he came rushing out. He told me you had been hurt, but he was moving so fast, he didn’t finish.” “Charles told you what happened?” I asked, “I didn’t even know you guys talk to each other.” Ricky rose and responded somberly, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. We talk all the time.” He left the room, leaving me by myself. I was confused. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” Did he just confess to me that he is gay? Is that why they talk? Are they boyfriends? Ricky returned a few minutes later with two cans of Coke and a bag of Doritos. “Hungry?” he asked. “Yeah,” I smiled. “I didn’t eat dinner.” We sat in awkward silence as we sipped our drinks and dipped our hands into the bag. Once, we did it at the same time, and our hands touched. “Sorry,” Ricky said apologetically. I giggled, grabbed his hand and held it. “Um,” he asked as his face reddened. “What are you doing Matt?” I smiled and replied, “Holding my best friend’s hand. Is that okay with you?” He looked shyly at me, then he lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it. “If it is okay with you, then it is okay with me.” This time it was my turn for my face to turn red. I wasn’t sure if he had thought I had just come out to him. It was meant to show him that he was still my friend. I wasn’t sure yet if I was ready to go any further. With everything else going on, I didn’t want to mislead him into thinking that I wanted him for a boyfriend. Ricky looked at the clock and noticed it was almost 10:30. The evening had gone so quickly since I walked out the door of my house. I had spent hours in the library, and it had been another hour since I arrived at Ricky’s house. “Are you ready to go to bed?” His face blushed when he asked me. I yawned, stretched out and replied, “Yeah. It’s been a busy day.” He walked over to the dresser and removed a tee shirt and a pair of athletic shorts. He handed them to me and said, “You can sleep in these.” He then asked, “Do you need to take a shower?” He giggled when I smelled my armpit. “Yeah, I better.” I rose and headed for the bathroom across the hall. I was lucky that the others had gone to bed or I might have had to wait an hour like I have in the past. With his brothers and sister sharing the same bath, it was sometimes impossible to use it. It was worse in the mornings if everyone awakens at the same time. When I finished, Ricky was sitting on the bed with a towel wrapped around him. He rose and headed across the hall for his shower. I dressed into the clothes he had given me, but I didn’t know if I should go to bed, or if I should sit and wait for him to come back into the room. After a deep yawn, I crawled into bed. I was almost asleep when he returned. I opened my left eye slightly and watched him drop the towel from his waist. It had been several years since I last saw him naked. He looked amazing. He had a thin light brown tuff of pubic hair, and his cock hung about four inches. It appeared that he may have been lifting weights. Even though he wasn’t muscular, he did have a well-defined body. I could feel myself begin to harden inside my shorts. I should have worn my underwear because I was afraid Ricky might notice the bulge that was beginning to form. After dressing, he walked over to the bed and looked down. “Are you okay if we sleep together? If not, I can go sleep on the sofa in the family room.” I pulled back the covers, smiled and replied, “Get in, Dork.” When I did, Ricky’s face flushed as he noticed the protrusion in the front of my shorts. He turned off the light, and we lay silently for several minutes. Usually, we would talk about the activities of the day until we tired and fell asleep. Now, I could hear his heavy breathing beside me. He seemed nervous as he tossed and turned. “Are you okay?” I asked. “Yeah, sure,” he replied nervously. He reached over and turned on the light before rolling over and looking directly into my face. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he wiped a tear falling down his face. He muttered softly, “I’m gay, Matt.”
  9. Ronyx

    Chapter 3

    A local church yesterday posted this meme on Facebook. This is probably the same church Matt's parents attend.
  10. Ronyx

    Chapter 3

    When I got home, I went to my room without getting a snack. I wasn’t hungry. I was still upset with Ricky. Usually, he would walk home with me, and we would grab something from the kitchen before going to my room. After changing out of my school clothes into shorts and a tee shirt, we would go to his house. There really wasn’t much to do in my room. Even though he shared a bedroom with a younger brother, he still had a computer and an Xbox set up on his television so we could play games. Since Christmas would be in a few months, he was hoping his parents would buy him and his brother a Wii video game station. I wasn’t sure what it was, but he made it sound exciting. Now, I guess, I’ll never know. I did my homework since I had nothing else to do. I had an assignment in my American History class, but I would have to wait to do it since it required research on the computer. One strict rule my Dad has is that I am never to use his computer without him being present. I don’t know if he is afraid that I might do something to it, or if I will look at a website I shouldn’t visit. It’s not like I would visit a sex site. I’m not that stupid. I know that whatever sites you visit can be stored, and he would certainly know if I clicked on a site like that. Once when I was using the computer and he left the room, I was tempted to go to the history and see if he had ever visited one of them. Ricky showed me how to check one day when we were in his room. But I was afraid Dad would return and catch me. How would I explain that? Besides, I’m certain that he would never do anything like that. As moral as he is, all the sites he visits would probably be religious anyway. I fell asleep for a while when suddenly Mom hollered up the stairs that dinner was ready. She must have had a hard day because we were eating take out from KFC. I don’t know if she bought it or if Dad did. And since she had a bad day, her dinner blessing lasted about three minutes. She went on and on about a client who had a problem getting her insurance company to pay for her treatments. I’m quite sure that God doesn’t answer prayers about an insurance claim. However, it still didn’t prevent the chicken legs on my plate from getting cold. Maybe I should have asked Mom to pray to warm my meal back up. I was taking a bite of my cold chicken leg when Dad asked, “How was school?” I knew he didn’t really want to know how school was going. He was asking, did you get in any more trouble? “It was fine, Sir,” I replied. He nodded and continued to eat. He knew that if I had gotten into any more trouble, I would have confessed. But not because I would feel guilty by what I had done. I just knew that if he heard something about me second hand, he would make my punishment harder. Although, I’m not sure what else there is left to do to punish me. I have been sent to my room so much that I don’t even feel I am being punished. It is normal for me to spend long hours in my room with nothing to do but read. It would be a better punishment to make me sit outside in the sun for a few hours without sunscreen. Then I would get burned. But I’ll never suggest that. He would probably think it is a good idea. I took another bite of my chicken and noticed my mother staring at me. I looked over and asked, “What?” She looked at my hair and asked, “Don’t you think it is time for another haircut?” She added, “Your hair is getting too long.” I ran my hands over my head and replied, “It’s not too long. I like it this length.” “Well,” she clicked her tongue. “If it gets much longer, no one will be able to tell if you’re a boy or a girl.” I rolled my eyes and didn’t respond. I just wanted to eat quickly and leave the table. I didn’t feel like sitting through an hour rant about transgender kids. Does it really matter to her if a person is a boy or a girl? She sees them once on the sidewalk while she’s going to work, and she’ll never see them again. I tried to make that point one time, but it ended up into a long rant about it not being the Godly thing to do. She didn’t think it was funny when I reminded her that Jesus had long hair. In fact, I was sent to my room for a week for that comment. I ate quickly and returned to my room. I lay on my bed and thought about how boring my life is. I’m sixteen, and it is as though I don’t exist. The only person who seems to really care about me is Ricky. And now he’s gone. Why did yesterday have to happen? I would right now be over at his house losing some video game to him. But it wouldn’t matter. At least I am doing something. Now, I feel like I could just disappear, and no one would care. My parents would probably be happy. They wouldn’t have to deal with a wayward son. My Dad has called me that a few times. It always ends with him quoting some passage from the Bible about a son who disrespected his parents and family. Maybe I rebel by not going to church with them anymore, but that doesn’t make me a bad person, does it? In fact, looking around at the students at school, I probably act better than most of them. I don’t cause my teachers any problems. When the classes get rowdy sometimes, and students are talking, I usually just sit quietly and watch them. Sometimes I may laugh at something someone says, but I rarely join in. I can’t count the number of times I’ve been called a teacher’s pet because I don’t get into trouble. That is why the incident in Mr. Harper’s room yesterday shocked a lot of students. Ricky can sometimes act a little crazy, but even he knows when to stop if it gets too out of hand. Ricky. When am I going to get him out of my head? Until yesterday, we were like a pair of shoes. Where one walked, the other followed. I’m now wondering if others are thinking we were boyfriends. For years, we’ve been by each other’s side. It was never anything sexual. It was a brotherly bond. Since I’m an only child, Ricky became the brother I never had. And things were going along fine- until he kissed me. But it isn’t the kiss so much that is bothering me. I keep wondering why we never did it before. I closed myself off so much from my feelings, that I never once considered that I did have feelings. Even with Stephanie, I don’t feel anything when I’m with her. We have fun, but I never want to cuddle with her like I know she wants me to. The times I have kissed her goodnight after a date, I didn’t feel anything. Most guys joke about how they get an erection when they are with their girlfriends, but I never felt like that. Even with Ricky, I never thought about him sexually. It isn’t because I felt it was wrong. I just pushed the thoughts so deep out of my mind, that I became numb. I think I started feeling this way when I stopped going to church. I knew that not attending church with my parents would make me seem like a sinner in their eyes. I wanted to prove to them that I could be a good person by not going to church. So, if I did anything that made them think I am a sinner, then they would be justified in thinking that they were right all along, and I am now destined to go to hell for all my sins and transgressions. So, I didn’t want to commit any sins or transgressions. I blocked anything from my head that would give me bad thoughts. Maybe it is because I’m getting older and I can now live my own life without worrying about how my parents think about me, I’m beginning to realize I am living my life wrong. I don’t have anything to prove. I know who I am, and I know what I want. Maybe Ricky’s kiss on my lips woke me up from the state I’ve been in- the state of denial. For the past twenty-four hours I’ve been reevaluating my life. I can continue to live in a state of boredom, or I can feel Ricky’s kiss on my lips. Yes, he kissed me. And yes, I enjoyed it. I felt his erection pressing against mine, and I didn’t feel sinful. I felt excited. And now, I realize I want more. I want what Steinbeck said in his boring book. There ain’t no sin, and there ain’t no virtue. There’s just stuff people do. And I want to do more stuff. I want to live my life the way I want to, not the way my parents expect me to live it. Thursday, October 23. I’m going to mark this day in my calendar. It is the day I’m going to stop living the way everyone expects me to live. I’m not going out and do anything foolish like getting drunk and having wild sex in the streets. That isn’t who I am. I’m a good person. I’m not going to do anything much different than I normally do. However, I’m going to be honest with myself. I’m going to start by accepting that Ricky is still my best friend. He may have wanted to ignore me yesterday, but I’m not going to let him do that to me today. We have to talk. We have to talk to each other about our feelings. He kissed me suddenly for a reason. I must know what that reason is. And after talking it out, maybe I’ll feel like kissing him back. I don’t know if I really want to, though. He is still like a brother to me. I might feel like we’re committing incest or something. I’m still going to leave the door open. If I want to kiss him, I will. I also need to decide what I want from a relationship with Stephanie. If I’m merely dating her to please everyone, then I realize I am deceiving her. It isn’t fair to her. However, I don’t know what I’m going to say to her. I like her. I really do. But, I know now that I don’t want a girlfriend. At least right now. I opened a door last night, and I have to look around outside. I need to know what I want. Maybe I’ll decide that I do want Stephanie. But if I don’t, I want her to move on to someone who she can really love without all the baggage I’m bringing along. I get to the school doors, stop and take a deep breath. ‘This is it,’ I say to myself. ‘You’re a new Matt Stevens.’ I went to my locker and got out my books. I expected Stephanie to show up, but she didn’t. Neither did Ricky. Suddenly, I felt alone. The confidence I had earlier was beginning to disappear. I saw Charles coming down the hallway. Another boy stuck out his foot and tripped him. Charles fell to the ground, and his books flew out of his arms. Students turned and began to laugh as he rose, brushed himself off, picked up his books and rushed off down the hall. Tears filled my eyes. I couldn’t do it. Charles was being his true self. Look what it got him- ridicule and laughter. I can’t do that to myself. I’m just not prepared. I’m not strong. Ricky passed me in the hall on the way to the cafeteria. I guess he had been waiting for me to leave my locker before he went to his. We looked quickly at each other, and then we looked down at the floor as we passed. I don’t think I had ever felt so miserable in my life. I couldn’t even look at my best friend anymore. I hated myself for how I had let myself down. This morning I was so sure I was going to be a changed person. Now, I had withdrawn back into my former shell. At least there I felt safe from scorn and ridicule. Stephanie smiled when I walked up and sat down at our table. Teddy and Brenda nodded and continued to talk about a project they were working on for chemistry. Stephanie looked worriedly at me and asked, “Are you okay, Matt?” “Yeah, sure,” I replied with a forced smile. “I’m just tired is all. I didn’t sleep well last night.” “Is anything bothering you that you want to talk about?” she asked. I thought, ‘Yeah sure. My whole life is messed up. I got these very religious parents who think everything is a sin. I feel like I’m a puppet with everyone pulling the strings the way they want me to move. My best friend kissed me and now we’re not talking. I like you as a friend, but I don’t think it will ever be anything more.’ “No,” say instead. “I’m okay.” I then turned to Teddy and Brenda and tried to appear like I was interested in their chemistry project. The day was the same as the day before. Ricky avoided me in every class we shared. Yesterday, he looked back at me a few times as if he missed me. Today, he didn’t turn one time. Even in gym, it was as if we weren’t in the same class. We played dodge ball, and we were on the same side. He was at one end of the line, and I was at the other. If we had been on opposite sides, at least I could have watched him play. He dressed and quickly left. I went to my locker to put the books away that I wouldn’t need for homework. I wanted to leave Grapes of Wrath, but we had been assigned another chapter to read. I would have read it last night in my room, but it was too difficult to concentrate with everything else on my mind. As I was leaving the building, I noticed Charles walking ahead of me. When he exited the door, a couple of guys approached and surrounded him. One was James Arnold who had tripped him earlier this morning. “Hey, Fag,” sneered James as he grabbed his cock. “I heard you like licking the Pleasure Pump.” The others started laughing. Charles tried to ignore them by walking around them. James stepped back in front of him and shoved his shoulder. “Didn’t you hear me, Black Boy?” He shoved him again in the chest. “Don’t you want a piece of this?” He again grabbed his crotch and thrust it at Charles. Charles clutched his book bag tightly and pleaded, “Please let me go by. I’m not doing anything to you.” “Yes, you are, Fag,” responded James angrily. “You’re breathing the same air I am.” He started to push him again, when “Leave him alone!” escaped my lips. James looked angrily at me. “Ohhh,” he cooed. “Hey, Matt. You sweet on this black boy?” My whole body was shaking as I responded, “He isn’t doing anything to you, James. Just leave him alone.” James walked around Charles and stood before me. “Who made you my master, Matt?” He stared me angrily in the face. Then a smirk appeared on his face as he grabbed his crotch again as his friends surrounded me. “Maybe you want some of this sausage, too.” His friends howled with laughter. “You’re sick,” I muttered as I tried to push my way past him. Suddenly, James grabbed my shoulder and turned me around. Before I could react, he hit me squarely on the right side of my face. I swooned backward and fell to the ground. For a brief second, I lost consciousness. When my eyes focused, James was standing over me. “That will teach you not to mess in other people’s business.” He kicked me in my side, turned and headed away with his friends following. Several students rushed over and knelt. They kept asking me if I was okay. I sat up and felt the side of my face. I hurt badly. I could tell that my right eye was swelling shut because I was having trouble seeing out of it. I looked around for Charles, but I didn’t see him. I wanted to make sure he hadn’t been hurt by James. “I think I’ll be okay,” I responded as I tried to stand. Two girls helped me to my feet. They looked worriedly at my face. “James is an asshole,” muttered one of them. The other asked, “Do you want me to go get Mrs. Davis?” Mrs. Davis is the principal of the school. “No,” I insisted. “I’ll be okay.” I picked up my book bag and headed off down the sidewalk. It was going to be a long walk home. I rushed to the bathroom when I got home. I stood before the mirror and looked at my face. It was worse than I thought. My right eye was darkly bruised and swollen shut. In fact, the whole side of my right face was badly bruised. I screamed out in pain when I touched it. I didn’t know how I was going to explain this to my parents. I couldn’t say I had run into a locker door that someone left open. They would never fall for that. It looked like what it was. I had been hit in the face by someone. By the looks of it, I might have been hit by Mike Tyson. I jumped when I heard the front door downstairs slam shut. I rushed to my window to see if it was Mom or Dad who had come home early. It was Dad. Why would he be coming home so early? He normally comes home about an hour after Mom gets home. Dinner is usually ready when he arrives. My heart began pounding when I heard him coming up the stairs. I rushed over to my bed, jumped on it, pulled the covers over my head and pretended to be asleep. I heard the door open, and he shouted out loudly, “Matt!” I continued to pretend like I was asleep, but he stomped across the room and tore back the covers. “Sit up, Matt!” he hollered. “I know you’re not asleep!” I rose and looked at him. Tears were welling up in my eyes. I knew by the angry look on his face that I was in trouble. “Holy, Mother of God!” he hissed when he saw my face. “You did get into a fight,” he remarked angrily. I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t get into a fight. I didn’t even have a chance to defend myself. However, he had already decided I was in a fight. He began pacing around the room, stopping occasionally to look angrily down at me. “I got a call at work,” he said. “Some young girl was crying and telling me that you had been hurt at school.” He stopped in front of me and looked at my swollen face. “She said you had been in a fight at school.” I started to cry. “I didn’t get into a fight,” I sobbed. “Someone hit me, and I didn’t do anything.” “You had to have done something!” he hollered. “Someone doesn’t just hit you for nothing. You must have done something to make him angry.” “I swear, Dad,” I pleaded. “I didn’t do anything.” “Then why did this person hit you?” Tears were running down my cheeks. “He was picking on another student,” I tried to explain, “and I just told him to leave him alone.” “Him?” My father asked with a puzzled look on his face. “This other student couldn’t defend himself? You had to get involved? Why?” “He was calling him bad names,” I replied as I choked back tears. I knew what the next question would be. “What kind of names?” I replied nervously, “I’d rather not say.” My father leaned down and stared angrily into my face. “What kind of names? What did he say that would warrant him hitting you so hard?” I held my head down and muttered, “He was calling him a fag.” My father asked angrily, “He was calling him what? Hold your head up so I can hear you.” I looked into this angry face and replied nervously, “He was calling him a fag.” My father jumped back and stared down angrily. “You got that black eye because you were defending a homosexual?” When I didn’t respond, he shouted, “Well?” “I guess so, Sir,” I replied nervously. I was beginning to be upset. I felt I had done the right thing my stepping in and telling James to leave Charles alone. No one else had said anything. In fact, most students appeared to be enjoying watching Charles being bullied. I couldn’t just stand by and say nothing. However, instead of being proud of my actions, my father seemed to be disgusted by what I had done. “Why?” Dad asked. “If someone is going to claim to be a homosexual, then they should be prepared to be bullied by other students. It isn’t your duty to try and protect them.” “I didn’t try to protect Charles,” I protested angrily. “I merely told James to leave him alone.” My father gave me a puzzled look. “Charles? The Charles who attends our church. The homosexual that Pastor Simpson is trying to save?” “I don’t know, Sir,” I replied. Since I didn’t church anymore, I wasn’t sure what had happened. I had heard my parents talk about Pastor Simpson trying to do an intervention with Charles, but I wasn’t sure what had happened. “Are you and this deviant friends at school?” my father asked angrily. The hairs on the back of my neck bristled. Deviant? Did my father just call Charles a deviant because he was gay? Tears filled my eyes as I responded, “That isn’t a very Christian thing to call someone.” My father’s face reddened with anger. “Are you trying to defend that pervert by questioning my religious beliefs?” For a minute, I thought he was going to hit me. He turned and started pacing around the room. “Look at you!” he shouted as he stopped in front of me. “You have a shiner the size of Kansas because you attempted to protect a pervert who should have gotten hit.” I couldn’t take anymore. I rose from my bed and stood before my father. “Shut up!” I screamed. At first, he seemed surprised by my outburst, then his eyes narrowed in anger. “Charles isn’t a pervert, deviant or fag,” I said adamantly. “He’s a good person, and everyone should just leave him alone.” My father’s eyes darkened as he asked, “Are you one of them too?” I didn’t know how to respond. I wanted to tell my father I was just to get even with him for the way his was acting. However, I wasn’t sure how he would react. And once I told him I was, there would be no way I could ever convince him I wasn’t. And at the moment, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t reply. I went back to my bed, lay down and threw the covers over my head. My heart was pounding because I didn’t know what he would do next. I could hear him breathing heavily. Finally, I heard him storm from the room and slam the door shut.
  11. Ronyx

    Chapter 2

    Wait a minute! I didn’t mean what I just said. I didn’t want Ricky to kiss me. What am I thinking? I…I can’t think this way. It is wrong. God says it is wrong, doesn’t he? What Ricky did was wrong. He’s going to hell. That is what Pastor Simpson says. Mom and Dad think that too. I can’t count the number of times my dad has ranted and raved about a couple of guys he sees holding hands while walking down the street. Two years ago, he rolled down his window and hollered out, “All fags are going to hell.” I slumped down in my seat as he drove away. If they knew what happened just now, they would demand that I never see Ricky again. We could never be friends. I just can’t see my life without him. He’s been there for me through all the shit I have had to endure the past few years. He’s the only person who knows how I’m treated by Mom and Dad. They have never laid a hand on me, but they torture me mentally almost every day. It is horrible living with religious fanatics. That’s why I have never admitted my deepest darkest secret. It has been buried since I was about ten years old. I’ve never told anyone, not even Ricky. Maybe that is why he kissed me. Maybe he knows. Maybe he knows me better than I know myself. All I know right now is my life has changed- drastically. How I react to this may start an avalanche that I can’t stop. If I tell Ricky that it is okay, and I forgive him, he may think I liked it. If I get mad, I could lose my best friend forever. Everything was going okay in my life. Mom and Dad were pretty much leaving me alone. I had a girlfriend which pleased them very much. I could tell that Dad was happy that I wasn’t ‘one of them.’ And I’m not. I can’t be ‘one of them.’ It would ruin my life forever. I know how Mom and Dad would react. If they didn’t put me out of the house, then they would send me to conversion therapy. I have heard them discuss it at the dinner table when they talk about Pastor Simpson’s sermon. From what they say, he’s even tried to do it himself a few times with the children of some people who attend the church. I’ve never heard them mention names, but I’m pretty sure who one is. His name is Charles Ward. I used to see him occasionally when I attended church with Mom and Dad. His family is rather large. They are black, and everyone would mention how they took up half a pew. Charles appears to be one of the middle children. His mother is rather short and heavy, while his father is tall and lanky. Charles is in several of my classes, but I don’t talk to him. Mom and Dad forbid me to have anything to do with him when rumors started to circulate that he was gay, and that Pastor Simpson was trying to ‘change him back to normal.’ I used to watch him at school during that time to see if I noticed any changes. I don’t know what I was expecting. I guess I was looking for a hole in his forehead where Pastor Simpson exorcized the demons from him. I always thought that Charles is rather cute, although I would never admit that to anyone. There is really nothing outstanding about him, but he is nice to look at. He’s about 5’6” and wears his hair short. He’s skinny, but not where it looks like he is malnourished or anything. Half his family is rather dark-skinned, and the others have lighter skin. Charles has a pretty, light skin color. I guess he sort of inherited the genes of both his parents. He’s also rather girlish acting which is why he doesn’t appear to have a lot of friends. No one seems to pay much attention to him, which I always found sad. Many times I’ve wanted to go up to him and say hi, but I’m afraid that it would get back to my parents that I did. I’ve seen Ricky walking down the hall a few times talking to him. I didn’t think anything about it until now. Now, I’m wondering if he and Charles know each other’s secret. Ricky has never mentioned him, so I doubt it. If they were friends, I would certainly know about it. “Matt!” Mom hollered up the stairs. “Dinner is ready!” “Oh, no,” I think to myself. I have to go to dinner and pretend that nothing happened with Ricky earlier. I’m not sure what I will say if they ask about him. They are used to him coming by after school, and Mom often asks him to stay for dinner. I hope my face doesn’t turn red if they mention his name. As usual, Mom says a long prayer before we eat. It’s like she has to forgive anyone who she felt offended her that day. Tonight, she overheard a woman at the grocery talking about her daughter being in the hospital, so Mom had to go on for several minutes asking the Lord to heal her of whatever was troubling her. As we were eating, she looks over and asks, “How was school today?” I must have looked like a deer in the headlights. After everything that had happened with Ricky, I forgot about detention. My face reddened as I confessed, “I got detention in Mr. Harper’s class.” I looked over at Dad and saw his face turn to anger. “What did you do, Matt? He asked sternly. Embarrassedly, I told them how Mr. Harper had assigned me and Ricky detention for throwing spitballs in class. I knew I might as well tell them because I was afraid Mr. Harper would call them later and tell them of my sinful behavior. Then they would be even more angry because I hadn’t told them myself. When I finished, Dad looked angrily at me and said, “You know that is very childish behavior?” I hung my head and nodded. “That is the problem with young people today,” he went on. “They act recklessly and don’t think about their actions.” I wanted to tell him I only threw one spitball in class. He was lecturing me like I had robbed a bank and killed the teller. I never give them any trouble, and I am a good student. I make one silly mistake, and they act like I’ve committed a felony or something. My mother spoke next. “I think it would be very gentlemanly of you to go to Mr. Harper tomorrow and apologize for your behavior. Don’t you?” I hung my head and mumbled, “Yes, Ma’am.” “Hold your head up, Young Man,” my father shouted angrily. “Answer your mother properly.” I held back tears as I looked at her and responded firmly, “Yes, Ma’am.” “Now for your punishment,” she replied. Oh crap, here it comes. I think they delight in punishing me. Sometimes I get the feeling they wish that I caused more problems. It gives them a chance to show just how moral they are. “Since Ricky is the reason for your disobedience in class,” my father ordered, “Then you are not to associate with him for a week.” His eyes narrowed as he said, “Understand?” “Yes, Sir,” I said firmly. That was going to be easy since I really didn’t want to see him after what he did to me earlier. My father continued, “I do not want to see him here, and I don’t want you going to his house anytime this week.” I nodded my head. “And when we finish dinner, I am going to call Albert and Marie and let them know what the two of you did. I’m quite sure he hasn’t told them.” There was nothing for me to say since I knew he would do it anyway. Now, Ricky’s parents would have to listen to a ten-minute lecture of how today’s kids aren’t like what they used to be like. All I we did was toss one frigging spitball. I’m sure if he was honest, he did much worse than that in school. Someday, I’m going to sit down with Gramps and get him to tell me some stories about Dad when he was my age. Of course, I would never have the nerve to throw them back into his face when he is lecturing me about something. “Yeah, Dad. I threw a spitball, but you toilet papered a neighbor’s house at Halloween.” That would probably get me punishment for a month. The rest of dinner was mainly Mom and Dad talking about their jobs. It seems like all they do is complain about work. I hope when I get a job, I’ll like it more than they do. Why spend eight hours a day doing something you really don’t like to do? After dinner, I spent the rest of the night in my bedroom. I don’t have a computer in my room, so it gets boring. My parents are afraid that I might find something on the internet that I’m not supposed to see. Last year, I begged them to let me have one. I told them they could put Net Nanny or any other parental controls on it they wanted. I needed one to do my homework. Most teachers give assignments just assuming that students have access to a computer. I do, but it is in the family room. The screen faces my Dad’s recliner so he can watch what I’m doing. So, when I have to do my homework, Dad is monitoring me. Occasionally, I go to Ricky’s place because he has a nice computer in his room, but I guess I can’t do that anymore. I have a small screen television and Playstation. However, Mom chooses which games I can play. She doesn’t like me playing violent ones because she thinks they are the devil’s workshop, whatever that means. I admit that some of them can get a little violent, but that doesn’t mean I’m going out and shoot up the neighborhood just because I play a stupid video game. I plopped down on the bed and got out the paperback book I had been reading in Mr. Harper's class. One passage in the book caught my attention- 'There ain't no sin and there ain't no virtue. There's just stuff people do.' That seems to contradict everything my parents have taught me. To them, everything is a sin, and there is nothing more important than a person’s virtue. That is why Dad got so mad at me because I threw spitballs in Mr. Harper’s class. There’s just stuff people do. That is what I feel. I didn’t commit no sin, and I didn’t lose any virtue because I threw a stupid spitball at Ricky. We were just having fun- doing stuff. Everything doesn’t have to have a meaning. There doesn’t always have to be a right or a wrong, a good or a bad or a heaven or a hell. I mean, can’t things just be because it is just stuff people do? I finished reading the assignment, and then I finished a few geometry problems before finally going to bed. At least doing homework had taken my mind off what had happened earlier. I touched my lips to where Ricky had surprised me with a kiss. Why did he do it? Was he just messing around? Did it have to be good or bad or right or wrong? Was he just playing around, you know, just doing stuff like we always do? But no, it had to mean something, or he wouldn’t have done it. I’m not sure how I’m going to face him tomorrow. If I try to ignore it, he may take it wrong and try to kiss me again. If he does, I’m not sure I will resist him doing it. Then he’ll know. And if he knows, it won’t take long for my parents to find out. They’ll be able to take one look at us and know something happened. We won’t be able to hide our secret. It won’t be stuff we do, but it will be more. They will know, and my world will change forever. When the sun came through the blinds, I was still awake. I hadn’t slept at all. I kept having this strong feeling that something bad was happening. It’s like you know a storm is on the way, but the sun is still shining outside. Then suddenly, you hear thunder in the distance warning you of the coming danger. That is how I feel. Right now, everything seems okay, but I can hear rumbling far away. Mom was in the kitchen preparing breakfast. She insists it is the most important meal of the day. I think she says that because she doesn’t like cooking dinner after a hard day at work. I have never understood what is so hard about her job. She sits all day at a desk answering the phone and making appointments. There can’t be anything too hard about that. Yet she comes home almost every night tired and complaining about her job. On really bad days, she goes into the family room and reads her Bible. On those nights, my father and I have to rummage through the refrigerator to find something to eat. “Good morning,” she turned and scowled as I entered the kitchen. “Morning, Mom,” I replied. I guess she was still mad at me for what happened at school. I’m just glad Dad had already left for work or I would have gotten another lecture. She placed a plate of food in front of me and left the room. I looked down at the usual meal- two slices of bacon, one scrambled egg and two slices of toast. It is the same every morning. I think I would pass out if she ever served me pancakes or waffles. I guess it must state somewhere in the Bible what a breakfast should contain- two slices of bacon, one scrambled egg and two slices of toast. After eating, I picked up my book bag off the floor and headed out of the house. I stopped at the top of the steps to listen for thunder. I headed down the sidewalk for school. Normally, Ricky would run out of his house and walk with me. I glanced over at the door, but I didn’t see him. I wasn’t sure if he didn’t want to see me after what happened, or if my father had told his father I wasn’t to see him for a week. I pulled my book bag tighter on my shoulders and hurried away. I entered school and headed to my locker. I looked to see if Ricky was around. His locker is next to mine. In middle school we shared a locker. However, in high school we have too many books, so we have lockers next to each other. I was getting out the books I would need for my morning classes when someone came up behind me. My heart starting pounding because I was afraid it was Ricky. I let out the breath I was holding when I heard, “Hey, Handsome.” It was Stephanie. She giggled and kissed me on my cheek. I turned and forced a smile. “Hey, Steph.” “Just hey?” she asked with a frown. She smiled when I leaned toward her and kissed her on the cheek. We then started heading to the cafeteria where students were supposed to wait until the warning bell for first period. Stephanie asked, “What’s wrong with Ricky this morning?” I shrugged my shoulders and replied, “Dunno. Why?” “When I tried to talk to him this morning, he hurried away,” she said. “It looked like he had been crying.” “Strange,” I remarked. I wanted to play it safe. I didn’t want Stephanie to think that I was aware of anything happening. I was kind of relieved that he didn’t want to talk. I knew we would have to talk about what happened sometime, but at school wouldn’t be that time. We sit at a table with five other sophomores. I guess we are like most schools where students have cliques. Only ours isn’t anything special. There are the jock tables, the cheerleaders’ tables, the nerd tables and then there is us. It is usually me, Stephanie, Ricky, Teddy Jenkins and his girlfriend Brenda Myers. I always felt sorry for Ricky because he looked rather alone when he sits with us. I tried a few times to get him to date some girl so she could join us, but he never seemed interested. Now I know why. We did what we do every morning- complained about classes and teachers. None of us liked reading The Grapes of Wrath. Teddy started laughing and asked me how I liked spending detention the night before. “Man, when you hit Ricky with that spitball, it was sensational. You should try out for the baseball team. The way you planted that on the side of his face, you’d make a great pitcher.” He sat back and roared with laughter. Of course, Stephanie hadn’t heard what happened, so I had to tell her. Brenda looked around and asked, “Where is Ricky this morning? I haven’t seen him yet?” Teddy laughed and said, “Probably still trying to wipe Matt’s slobber off his face.” Just then, the bell rang, and we headed to our first period class. Unfortunately, mine was Mr. Harper’s English class. When I entered, I quickly looked back at the seats where Ricky and I sat. He hadn’t arrived yet. I sat down and stared at the door. I wasn’t sure what would happen when he entered. It would be the first time I would see him since he kissed me. I didn’t know how to react. Mr. Harper entered the room, and then the bell rang. Still no Ricky. I knew he was in school because Stephanie said she saw him earlier. Mr. Harper was taking attendance when he suddenly entered. He was panting heavily, and it appeared he had been running. “Well, Ricky,” said Mr. Harper sarcastically. “How nice of you to join us.” Ricky stood in front of him and looked at the floor. “I’m sorry, Mr. Harper,” he said softly. “I tried to make it before the bell.” “Maybe you need another night of detention to remind you to be on time,” he responded angrily. “Yes, Sir,” replied Ricky. It appeared that he was ready to burst into tears at any second. I really felt sorry for him. I thought Ricky would sit in his desk beside me, but he walked over to the other side of the room and sat down at an empty desk. Mr. Harper looked quickly at me before he resumed taking attendance. I sat staring at the back of Ricky’s head. His blond hair shone with the sunlight coming through the window. He turned once, but I quickly looked down at the assignment we were supposed to be doing. I wondered if he could sense me staring at him. When the bell rang, he rushed from the room without looking back. Before the next class entered, I did apologize to Mr. Harper. Like my father, he had to lecture me on my childish behavior. However, he threw in something about me never growing up to be a respectable man. I sure hope Dad never hears that one. The rest of the day was the same. We shared four classes, but he avoided me in each class. He seemed to move as far away from me as he could. Gym was even more awkward. Coach Bancroft had us playing basketball- shirts and skins. Ricky and I were on opposing teams. I was shirt and he was skin. I couldn’t help looking at his bare chest as we played. He never made eye contact with me. We played for thirty minutes like strangers. I know the other members of our class wondered what was going on. Before, we would have been on the same team, and we would have made comments to make the others laugh. The mood was somber. Even Jason, a member on my team, made a comment asking if someone’s grandmother had died. By the end of the day, I was angry. Ricky was the one who kissed me, but he was treating me like I had done something wrong. It was his fault we weren’t speaking. I felt like confronting him in the hall as I was leaving school, but I decided against it. We would have ended up saying something in front of others that we would regret. If he didn’t want me as a friend anymore, then fine. It was just one stupid kiss.
  12. I'm back. I took some time off, but now I'm back with a new story, Stuff People Do. Check it out and leave me a comment.

  13. Ronyx

    Chapter 1

    @Wesley8890 Yeppers, I'm back! Went into a slump for a while, but I've started writing again. I hope you enjoy the story.
  14. Ronyx

    Stuff People Do

    Matt Stevens is a normal sixteen-year-old. He goes to school and makes good grades. Even though he is being raised in an extremely religious home, he manages to do well. Then, unexpectedly, his life takes an abrupt turn late one night when his best friend, Ricky, kisses him while wrestling on the bed. Matt starts to question his own sexuality, and he begins to realize he is gay. His life starts to spiral out of control, leading to many unexpected twists and turns.
  15. Ronyx

    Chapter 1

    I really don’t know how I get myself into these messes. When I rolled out of bed this morning and dressed for school, I didn’t think I would find myself sitting in detention for an hour. It wasn’t my fault. Honest. Well, I guess maybe it is, but it is easier to blame my best bud, Ricky, for the situation I’m now in. He’s sitting beside me, and occasionally he looks over and grins at me. I’m not mad at him, but I can’t let him know it. For now, I’m just going to frown and act like I’m mad. It began in Mr. Harper’s English class. We were supposed to be silently reading a chapter of The Grapes of Wrath. I don’t know why we have to read stories about something that happened so long ago. It is boring. If teachers want to keep our attention, they need to turn books into video games. Instead of taking a test on the material, we could be graded on how high a level we can reach. Anyway, where was I. Oh yeah, why I’m in detention. I was reading, and I could hardly stay awake. Suddenly, I was hit in the face with a paper wad. I looked over at Ricky, and he was grinning. So, I mouthed, “War,” and I took out a piece of paper, tore off a couple of strips, put them in my mouth, and began chewing one of the best spitballs known to man. When I finished, it was about the size of a marble. Ricky mumbled, “No, Matt,” just as I flipped it at him, hitting him on his forehead. Unfortunately, Mr. Harper looked up just as I did it. I almost peed when he stood and hollered, “Matt! What are you and Ricky doing back there? You’re supposed to be silently reading.” I managed to squeak out, “Nothing, Mr. Harper. We ain’t doing nothing.” He sarcastically remarked, “Well, you certainly ‘ain’t’ reading.” He stressed the word ain’t like my mother does when she wants to correct my language. I’m not really sure, but I bet people have been saying ain’t since they started talking. I don’t know one person who doesn’t say it. I’ve even heard my mother use it. She gets mad when I correct her like she does me. Then Mr. Harper walked back to where we were sitting. By now, everyone in the room was watching. I guess it was a pleasant distraction rather than sitting quietly reading some boring book. “Matt,” spoke Mr. Harper angrily. He then looked over at my friend, Ricky. Ricky’s face was red. He’s has blond hair and very pale skin, so he looked like he had a bad sunburn on his face since he was blushing so much. “Ricky?” asked Mr. Harper. “Why are you and your sidekick, Matt, disturbing my class?” He then looked down at the floor and noticed the giant spitball. “Pick it up, Matt,” he ordered as he pointed to it. “That is disgusting. Why would you do something like that?” I hung my head and replied, “I don’t know, Mr. Harper.” He started to walk away, and then he turned toward us. “I’m going to give you some time to reflect on that, Matt and Ricky. You have one hour of detention after school. You will write me a two-page essay on why you shouldn’t throw spit balls in class.” I wanted to stand and shout, “An hour of detention, and you’re going to make us write? What is this, the fourth grade?” But I chickened out. We’re in the tenth grade now, and Mr. Harper is going to treat us like babies by writing a stupid essay. Fortunately, the bell rang about three minutes later. As we left class, Mr. Harper warned us, “Don’t be late to detention, or I’ll give you another night.” “Damn, Matt,” remarked Ricky apologetically as he trotted up beside me as I hurried down the hall. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble with Mr. Harper.” “You?” I scowled. “You mean us?” “It was your fault, you know,” he replied. “My fault?” I shouted too loud. Several students turned to see what we were arguing about. For some, it was probably the first time they had heard us argue. Matt and Ricky. Two peas in a pod, as my mother calls us. I’m not too sure what that means. Sometimes she calls us thick as thieves, and I don’t know what that means either. I guess she is saying that we are good friends. We’ve known each other since the first grade. Ricky lives around the block from me. I can’t remember a day when he wasn’t in my life. He’s the only person who knows what I’m feeling when even my own mother can’t. “What do you mean it’s my fault?” I asked. “You’re the one who threw one first, and then you had to make a noise, and Mr. Harper heard you.” “You hit me with a gross paper wad,” he reminded me. “It had your spit on it.” I replied angrily, “Well, you got us detention tonight. Mom was going to take me to Foot Locker after school to buy me a new pair of shoes. Now, she’ll probably be mad at me and won’t take me.” He grinned, looked down at my feet and said, “Nothing wrong with the shoes you have on.” I flipped him off and walked away. Now, we’re sitting in the cafeteria for detention. I don’t know why he sat at my table. The room is filled with tables, and there are only four other students assigned detention. He could have sat anywhere else. I’m still kind of mad at him. He’s the reason we’re here. I continued to read the assigned reading of Grapes of Wrath. However, it has to be the most boring book on the face of the earth. It’s even more boring than Animal Farm which we had to read last year. Mrs. Young stood and announced that we were free to go. I tried to hurry from the cafeteria to my locker. I was hoping Ricky would get the hint I was mad at him, but no luck. He came up behind me and asked, “Ready to head home?” I slammed my locker and hurried away with him following me. As we were walking down the sidewalk, he asked, “How long you gonna be mad at me, Matt?” I turned and replied, “Until you admit you were the reason we had detention.” He yelled excitedly, “But you threw the spitball!” “Maybe I did,” I replied, “But you had to make noise so Mr. Harper noticed.” “Fine,” he said as he threw up his arms. “I gave us detention. Happy now?” “Yes,” I giggled and walked away. Ricky followed me to my home. He likes to stay at my house because he comes from a large family. He has two younger brothers and a younger sister and an older sister. His house is usually noisy. His brothers, Ken and Mike, are twelve-year old twins, and they are constantly fighting about something. They have been that way for as long as I can remember. I would think that twins are close, but I suppose not always. His younger sister, Melanie, usually sides with Mike, and that creates even more chaos. Jennifer, his older sister, is a senior at our school, and she works after school until ten at night at Wendy’s. Ricky says she is seldomly home. I’m an only child. Mom and Dad don’t get home from work until around six. Dad sells insurance, and Mom is a receptionist for a chiropractor. When they are not at work, they spend a lot of time in church. When I was small, they used to force me to go with them. I would usually end up crying because it is a Pentecostal church, and they would scare me with their shouting and thrashing around. When I was fourteen, we got into a big fight about me going. They got really mad when I told them I didn’t want to go anymore. We would end up in big fights, and I usually was put on punishment for the rest of the week. Many times, I was sent to my room to read passages from the Bible. They were usually the ones about children being obedient to their parents, or how I was going to end up in hell because of my wayward attitude. It became a weekly ritual of me refusing to go with them to church, and then the following week me being banished to my bedroom until the next Sunday. Then, suddenly one Sunday, they just left without me. I woke up around ten o’clock and wondered if they were sick or something. I got out of bed and wandered around the house looking for them. I fixed myself lunch, and they came home around two that afternoon dressed in their Sunday clothes. They never said a word to me, and I sure wasn’t going to ask what was going on. Since then, things have been better, but I can tell they resent me for not going to church with them anymore. But I don’t care. At least I don’t have to listen to Pastor Simpson screaming from the pulpit about all the evil in the world. We grabbed a couple of sodas from the refrigerator and a big bag of potato chips and headed up to my room. Ricky walked in and sat down on my bed. “Damn, Dude,” he said, “Don’t you ever clean your room?” Okay, I’m not the neatest person in the world. My Mom used to clean my room, but when I quit going to church, she stopped. I guess that was one way to punish me. So to get her back, I started keeping my room a mess. When I take my clothes off when I come home from school, I kick my shoes off and leave my clothes on the floor. The same for snacks. There are soda cans and empty snack wrappers on the computer desk and dresser. If I want to really get her mad, I leave them in the floor too. I love it when she walks by the room, looks in, makes a huffing noise and slams the door shut. To me, I feel like I have won some sort of a battle. I know it isn’t right to feel this way, but I think my parents rejected me when I wasn’t the perfect son. I mean, I’m a good kid. Honest. I go to school every day, and I make good grades. They may not be the highest grades in my class, but I do alright. I’m not a disciplinary problem in school. Teachers have never called my house because I’m being disruptive. Today was the first day I’ve ever been assigned detention. I don’t know if Mr. Harper will call them tonight and tell them what happened in class. But I don’t care. It will just give them one more thing to add to their list of disappointments. I turned and told Ricky, “I’ll be back. I gotta go pee.” He giggled and said, “Shake it more than three times and you’re playing with it.” I shook my head and left the room. In the bathroom, I looked at myself in the mirror. I’m no Adonis, but I look okay, I guess. I grew two inches over the summer, so I’m now 5’9”. My hair is this mousy looking brown color. I wish I had Ricky’s long blonde hair. My hair gets really curly if I don’t cut it, so I keep it rather short. I look closer, and I notice the beginnings of a mustache. It is rather fine, but it still is there. I guess I’m becoming a man now. I have brown eyes, but they are kind of plain. Sometimes I wish I had Ricky’s penetrating blue eyes. They just seem to sparkle when he gets excited or laughs. I’ve often just stared into them because they are so bright and shiny. I don’t think I’m ugly, and least I’ve never been called that. My girlfriend, Stephanie, thinks I’m cute. But I guess she has to say that. We started dating about a month ago. She’s had a crush on me since the eighth grade, and she has been trying to get me to date her ever then. I really wasn’t looking for a girlfriend, but when you get in high school, it is just expected that you date someone. Stephanie is more a friend than a girlfriend. We have a lot of fun together when we go out, and she doesn’t expect much from me. We’ve kissed a few times, but so far we haven’t gotten into any heavy petting. I think we have both thought about it, so it may not be too far away when we do take our relationship to another level. Right now, I’m okay just taking care of things when I shower or before I go to sleep at night. Ricky hollered out, “Are you spanking it?” I could hear him giggling in the other room. When I entered, he was sitting on the bed grinning. His blue eyes were sparkling brightly. Ricky and I are about the same build, only he may be about an inch shorter. We’re both medium built, but neither of us are very muscular. We don’t play sports except baseball sometimes with our friends in the field down the street during the summer months. I can’t dribble a basketball, and I’m too lazy to run track. Ricky ran track for a while last year, but he dropped out. He never told me why he did, but I guess he got tired of running all the time. “What do you want to do?” He asked me as I took a seat beside him. I replied, “I don’t know. I guess we could play a video game. I still gotta pay you back for beating me yesterday.” “Fat chance,” he laughed. He puffed out his chest and said, “I’m the grand master gaming champion.” I started rolling around on the bed laughing. I caught my breath and replied, “Grand master gaming chump.” He laughed and threatened, “Oh, you’re going to get it now!” “Bring it on,” I challenged. He jumped at me and pinned me down in the bed. I was laughing uproariously. Since no one was home, we didn’t have to be careful about making too much noise. Many times, our challenges ended up in wrestling matches. He stood, grabbed my arms and tossed me onto the floor. Before I could respond, he was laying atop me, pinning me to the floor. I tried to wriggle free, but I couldn’t. Of all the wrestling matches we had over the years, this one felt different. For some reason, he was grinding his body into mine. I could feel him getting hard, and I was starting to respond. I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. “Let me up,” I shouted as I tried to break free. “No,” he replied as he pressed his body harder into mine. I looked into his sparkling blue eyes that were just inches from mine. “Please,” I pleaded. I again tried to get free, but Ricky ground his dick harder against mine. “No,” he replied nervously. “I got you where I want you.” Then, he leaned in and… kissed me! “What the fuck?” I shouted as I pushed Ricky off me. He stood beside the bed looking down wildly at me. “Gosh, Matt,” he mumbled as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Damn, I’m sorry.” I looked up at him in utter disbelief. “Why did you do that, Ricky? You kissed me!” Tears welled up in his eyes, “I’m sorry, Matt,” he cried as he rushed from the room. Seconds later, I heard the front door slam shut. I started pacing around the room. “What the fuck?” I kept saying. I walked over to look out my bedroom window, but Ricky had already disappeared. I touched my mouth where he had just kissed me. “What the fuck?” I kept repeating. I still couldn’t believe what had happened. I kept running it over in my mind. Wrestling around on the floor, our dicks grinding against each other, and then the kiss. Why did Ricky kiss me? I know we are close, almost like brothers. He’s even told me I’m a better brother than the ones he has. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. Maybe he was kissing me like he kisses his mom on the cheek when we sometimes leave his house. Maybe it was just a brotherly kiss. It meant nothing. However, I can’t convince myself that it was. I saw the lust shining in his eyes as he pinned me to the bed. And his grinding wasn’t playful; there was more to it. We’ve wrestled hundreds of times over the years, but this time was different. It seemed like Ricky wanted to have sex with me. If I hadn’t shouted, he probably would have continued to kiss me. And he probably would have wanted more. But Ricky? He’s my best friend. We know each other better than we know ourselves, but I didn’t see this coming. And what scares the shit out of me, is why didn’t I see this coming? Is Ricky gay? Has he been keeping a secret from me? In the ten years we’ve known each other, I’ve never thought that about him. We’ve dressed naked in front of each other numerous times over the years. We’ve even slept side by side in bed together on sleepovers. Not once have we touched each other. We haven’t even jerked off together like most friends do. We’ve joked about it, but we never did. I guess we just figured it was things that brothers don’t do together. But what happened this afternoon? I keep running it over in my mind. Ricky kissed me, and he would have done more if I had let him. What worries me the most… Why didn’t I let him?
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