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    Mark Arbour
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Be Rad - 3. Chapter 3

June, 1980

 

 

I told my parents that Ace was crashing at a friend's house, covering for him. He'd do the same thing for me. Then I headed off to my room to enjoy some time to myself. I thought about the party and about sex. It really was fun, but it wasn't my thing. Not that I wouldn't do it again if I had the chance. The only problem now was what to do about Karen. I mean, in high school when you fuck someone that's pretty much a definition of being together. So that technically made her my girlfriend. And that meant that sooner or later I was going to have to hurt her. I couldn't tell her the truth, that I was a fag, so I was going to have to lie and she'd probably see right through me.

 

I was still wound up because of the coke so I headed over to my easel and decided to paint. I smiled mischievously as I painted a picture of Doug's leg and cock head as I'd seen it in the back seat of the Jeep. I did it in an abstract style so no one else would know what it was. The coke, the humor, and the lust that painting it evoked made me paint like a crazed idiot. Before I knew it the clock said 6am. I finished it up and passed out.

 

Around noon a very hung over Ace came rolling into my room. He sniffed, smelling the paint, and looked at my picture. “What is it?” he asked.

 

“What do you think it is?”

 

“Hmmm. Looks like a waterfall of red water flowing over a big rock.” I giggled.

 

“Close enough. How did you do at the party?”

 

He got really animated. “Man, I got laid. I did the deal.”

 

“No way!? With Cass?”

 

“Yeah. There was an ugly scene with Felicia but that seemed to make Cass want me even more. She was really into it too. It was fucking awesome. I don't think it was her first time.”

 

“Who cares as long as you had fun,” I told him.

 

“What about you?”

Ace knew all about me; he was one of the few people that I could be completely honest with. “I used the condom you gave me.”

 

“You got laid? Who was he?”

 

I chuckled. “It was a she.”

 

“I thought you were gay?” He was confused.

 

“I wanted to make sure, so I fucked Karen. It was fun, but now I know for sure I'm 100% queer. Well, it was pretty cool. Maybe 80%.”

 

“Wow. That's pretty amazing. So did you say anything afterward?”

“Like what?” I asked. “What was I supposed to say? I said thanks. Told her she was amazing.”

 

“You're supposed to ask her out.”

 

“Oh.” And I felt like shit. I had used her to prove to myself that I really was gay, but I’d ended up playing with her feelings. “I guess I'm a total asshole.”

 

“Yeah, you are. But so are most guys, so you're not alone.”

 

“So what do I do about it?” I was really disturbed by this new development. “I don't want to hurt her.”

 

“Well, you can't tell her you're gay, because then we'd spend our senior year in fights. I think all you can do is tell her that you really like her as a friend. Maybe buy her a little present or something.”

 

“Fuck. Can't I just ignore her?” The thought of having that conversation was just about the worse thing I could imagine.

 

“You can, but that's the dickhead cowardly way out.”

 

“Fuck.” He just shook his head and left me to my thoughts. I headed to the shower to enjoy the warm water, jack off, and figure out what to do. After my shower I called Karen.

 

“Hey Brad,” she said when she answered. She sounded nervous.

 

“Hey Karen,” I said. And then I froze. I couldn't talk.

 

“So what did you want?” she finally asked, to prompt me.

 

“Um, I wanted to thank you for last night and to see if you had some time to talk.”

 

“I get it. You want to get together and tell me that it was fun but it didn't mean anything. That way you can blow me off and not feel guilty.” She was pissed.

 

I stared at the phone. That's exactly what I was going to do. Now what? What the fuck, I thought. “Yeah, actually that's what I was gonna say. But I was going to take you out to dinner first, maybe to a movie.” I heard a sniffle. Was she crying?

 

“Well at least you're honest about it. I suppose now you'll go tell all your friends that you fucked me, and everyone will think I'm a slut.”

 

“No I won't. I only told one person, Ace, and he'll keep his mouth shut. I like you Karen; I want to be your friend. I don't want to hurt you or embarrass you.”

 

“Dinner huh?”

 

“Yeah. Dinner. A really nice dinner for a really nice girl.”

 

She giggled. “OK, pick me up at 6pm.”

 

“Dress nice,” I said.

 

I lined up Rafael to take me out on this date and made reservations at the Crown Room at the Fairmont Hotel in the City. I told Ace about my conversation.

 

“Wow. She really chopped off your dick,” he said.

 

“Yeah, but at least it's all out in the open. I think we may be OK. You just have to keep your mouth shut and don't tell anyone.”

 

“No one?”

 

“Who did you tell?” I demanded.

 

“No one,” he said with a smile. He was fucking with me so I punched him.

 

“No one asshole. She's a nice girl.”

 

“Don't worry Brad. Your secret is safe with me. I haven't outed you yet. You can trust me.”

 

Then I shocked the shit out of him by giving him a big hug, a long hug. At first he was stunned, and then he just hugged me back. “I love you bro,” I said.

 

“I love you too.”

 

I stopped by the florist and got Karen some flowers. I got lilies because I like the way they smell, and roses have all that symbolic shit behind them. Then I headed over to her house. She lived in a pretty normal house in a normal part of Palo Alto. I was worried that her father would be there with a shotgun, forcing me to marry his daughter now that I'd deflowered her, but her parents were as nice as can be.

 

They asked where we were going and I told them. Then I guided Karen out to the limo and Rafael drove us up to the City. Karen didn't say anything about us, but she gossiped about everyone at the party. She told me how pissed off Felicia was at both Ace and Cass, and how some girl tried to get Dawkins to sleep with her but he was so nervous he freaked out on her. I told her not to spread that around, that it would humiliate him, but it was probably too late.

 

“What about Doug?” I heard myself ask.

 

“Childers? He's a cutie. Jessica made out with him all night but he never pushed it any further, and she's a good girl. Not like me.”

 

“You are a good girl. In fact, you're a very good girl,” I said, flirting. It missed the mark. “I'm teasing Karen. Just because you have sex with someone doesn't mean you're a bad person. Besides, only you and I know about it. Personally, I'd love to tell the world. No one would believe I'd ever be so lucky. But I will defend your honor.”

 

She laughed at that. “You know, Brad, it would be easy to really really like you.”

 

I tried to think of a good answer to that but we pulled up to the hotel at just that point. We had a fantastic dinner, and then I had Rafael drive us across the Golden Gate Bridge and back for shits and grins. She didn't bring up the topic of “us” until we were on our way back to her house.

 

“So what is it about me that you don't like?”

 

I felt like shit. “It's not about you, it's about me. You are perfect, but I just can't be in a relationship, at least not right now.”

 

“You know, Brad, that really doesn't make much sense.”

 

“I know, but you just have to trust me. And whenever you don't believe me, or let those stupid insecurities convince you that you're not a total fox, you call me and I'll take you out. OK?”

 

“OK,” she said with a smile.

 

“Friends?” I asked.

 

“Friends,” she confirmed as we pulled up to her house.

 

I kissed her gently, not like last night, but with the intent to convey that I liked her and cared about her. Then I walked her to the door and kissed her again, but with even less passion in case her parents were watching.

 

I collapsed into the limo and Rafael drove home. I should have been tired and exhausted, but I wasn't. I had woken up this afternoon with a huge weight on my shoulders, the weight that comes from knowing that you have to hurt someone you like. And things had worked out pretty well in the end.

 

Ace was out, and no one else was around, so I took that opportunity to sneak off to my room and crash. And think about Doug.

 


 

I used the drive to Doug's house as a way to calm down. I was seriously pissed at Lark. I'd called him a bunch of times this weekend and he didn't call me back. I finally caught him this morning.

 

“You don't answer my calls anymore? What's the deal Lark?”

 

“I've been a busy man,” he said.

 

“That's bullshit and you know it. I thought we were friends.”

 

“We are friends, but that doesn't mean I have to be at your beck and call does it?” He was getting pissed too.

 

“Whatever. All of a sudden you don't call me back, you don't want to hang out, and you don't want to go to Malibu, all things you used to do. So something is different, but you try and make me sound like some fucking obsessed chick. Fuck you Lark.” And then I'd hung up. I didn't get him. What was his deal?

 

We pulled up to Doug's house and he came out as soon as we drove up. What a switch from Lark. This guy actually wanted to be my friend, to spend time with me. We grabbed his board and tossed it in the limo, which was pretty funny, along with his stuff, and then headed to the small airport.

 

Stef's plane was waiting for us. He'd had them stock up a bunch of food for our short trip, so we pigged out on the way.

 

“Damn, this is the shit. No security, no waiting, no lugging shit. You drive right up to the plane and go. I'm gonna be spoiled now.”

 

I just laughed at him. He had a really engaging smile, and I noticed that when he really smiled big he got a dimple in his left cheek. I was crushing on this guy big time. I needed to keep myself under control, to keep things cool.

 

We landed in LA and another limo whisked us up to Malibu. In no time at all we got to Stef's house. He was waiting for us in the big front room that overlooked the Pacific.

 

“Darling, you look fabulous. And this must be Doug. Welcome! I hope you will feel at home here.” Stefan was wearing tight pants, probably spandex, and a flowing silky shirt with an open chest. He had some gaudy diamond rings on his hands, and he'd obviously put a touch of makeup on. He was a flamer, but I loved him.

 

“Thank you sir,” said Doug. Stefan's eyes narrowed and his brows creased together in anger.

 

“Sir? Do I look like a dungeon-master to you? My name is Stefan or Stef. Anything else you use at your peril.”

 

I giggled. “Dungeon master? Are you into that stuff now?”

 

“No you little tart,” he said. “It's just an expression. Now let me show you around. We're going to have a few other guests, so I'm going to have to put you in the same room. Is that OK? Or would you rather sleep with me, Doug?”

 

I saw Doug's mouth hit the floor and I doubled over laughing. Stef did too. “Um, maybe some other time. I'm fine sleeping with Brad,” he said shyly.

 

“Smart move. He's harmless, but I'm fun. Armand is coming to visit for a few days.”

 

“That's fantastic!” I said. Armand was my cousin, an actor who'd been a teen idol. Now he was about 24, still hot as hell, and a lot of fun to party with. I hadn't been around him too much the past few years. It would be fun to reconnect.

 

We headed to our room on the second floor and unpacked. “Your uncle is a riot. I have to tell you, Lark was right. He is a flamer. But a great guy. I'm glad you invited me down here.”

 

“I'm glad you're enjoying it. We'll probably end up hitting some parties while we're here. They can get pretty wild. Can you handle that?”

 

“Wild how?”

 

“Sex and drugs.”

 

“I like both those things,” he said with a smile.

 

“Well, when it comes to the sex part, just remember that these guys are gay.”

 

“So I'll do drugs,” he said, laughing.

 

We grabbed our boards and hit the beach. There were some decent waves, nothing to write home about, but decent. It was a beautiful day, so we took a break in the late afternoon and just hung out on the beach, dozing and bullshitting. We surfed a little more at the end of the day, and then went up to the house to eat.

 

Greg was home so Doug got to meet him. Greg hadn't changed much since I'd met him some seven years ago. My dad told me that when Stef was young he was a wild man, that he had sex with pretty much anything that moved. It was hard to visualize that, seeing him here with Greg. They were clearly devoted to each other and completely in love. I tried to gauge Doug's reaction to seeing this happy gay couple together, but it didn't seem to have an impact on him at all.

 

We changed and they took us out to dinner at some chic Hollywood Bistro. Skimpy portions for hungry guys like us, so we ended up ordering more and more food which seemed to irk the waiter. Greg and Stef seemed to think it was hilarious. We didn't see any celebrities, but I didn't really care about that. I'd been around enough of them to know they were normal people, sometimes a lot weirder than normal people in fact.

 

We got back to the house and I gave Stef a bag of pot I'd brought from Escorial. We all smoked some together, and then, totally stoned, decided to call it an early night.

 

I got to the bedroom in nervous anticipation. I didn't really know what to think about Doug, or at least about where he was with his sexuality, but I knew that I wanted him. “I hope you don't mind sharing a bed with me,” I said shyly.

 

“Well, I figured that I've already shared a shower with you, so a bed is no big deal.” I giggled at his reference to our shower encounter and felt myself getting hard. I jumped into bed before it became obvious.

 

Doug came over to the bed and shucked his underwear before he got in so I pulled mine off under the covers. “I'm kind of worked up. Mind if I jack?”

 

“Not at all. Mind if I join you?” He spread his legs wide so his left leg was on top of my right leg. The feel of his skin on mine sent tingles up my spine. I swallowed and rolled over onto my side, facing him, and ran my hand over his body. He moved his hand to give me access and I explored him, playing with his nipples, and the head of his dick. Then I decided to make my move and up the ante. I leaned in and kissed him.

 

Time froze. My lips were on his, waiting for a response, but there wasn't one. I was horrified. I was busted. I'd pushed too far and outed myself. I pulled away from him and looked into his eyes. I knew I couldn't hide my expression, I just hoped he could overlook it. My stomach churned. Then he reached around and grabbed my head and pulled me back to him, to his lips, and kissed me back.

 

He rolled over onto his side so he was facing me, clutching me to him while we made out. Our tongues wrestled and explored our mouths, our hard cocks slammed against each other, and then he rolled over on top of me. Having his big hard body on top of me, grinding against me, while our lips remain locked was un-fucking-believable.

 

He started thrusting into me, rubbing his cock against mine, while I wrapped my legs around him to hold him close and increase the friction. He broke our kiss and moved his mouth to my neck. His panting and moans wafted into my ears, stimulating me way beyond anything I'd ever experienced before.

 

“This feels so good. Too good. I'm gonna cum,” he said breathlessly.

 

His words sent me over the edge. “Me too. Me too!” I practically shouted, and then my dick took over and exploded. I lost control of my body and spasmed into him for what seemed like a pleasant eternity. When we finished we were panting and covered in cum. He rolled off of me, landing flat on his back.

 

I was nervous about his reaction, but I grabbed a towel and wiped us off. He smiled at me. “It seems like every time we're together we do something gayer.” I laughed. “Don't think you're going to stick that big thing up my ass though. I draw the line there.”

 

“Pussy. Take it like a man,” I teased.

 

“I don't know if I could do that.”

 

“Are you OK with this?” I asked cautiously.

 

“Yeah. That was a blast. It's not like I don't like women, not like we're going to run off and get married. Just two guys having fun and getting off, right?”

 

“Right,” I said convincingly, even though it was a lot more to me. I wanted to curl up next to him, on top of him, but that didn't seem consistent with his last statement, so I just rolled over and fell asleep. The farther we went, the more confused I got.

 

I woke up the next morning with Doug spooned up behind me. I smiled and luxuriated in the feel of his body behind me, and his dick poking me in the ass. I'd never really thought about letting another guy fuck me. It seemed like it would hurt like hell, and I didn't see how it could possibly feel good. Still, with his dick probing my hole, for the first time I could see how I might be willing to try it. Someday.

 

Doug rolled over onto his back and I rolled over to face him. “Morning,” I said.

 

“Morning,” he said back to me, smiling as I moved my hand down his chest, over his abdomen and treasure trail, and down to his hard cock. I was rewarded with the feeling of his hand stroking me. I'd pushed the envelope last night, time to do it again.

 

I moved my mouth over to his chest and nibbled and sucked on his nipple. He liked that; I could tell because his dick throbbed in my hand. Then I moved my mouth down his chest to his abdomen, ran my tongue down his treasure trail, and rubbed his dick around my cheeks and nose. He looked at me, wide-eyed, but didn't stop me.

 

I ran my tongue up his shaft and flicked the underside of his head. He moaned and a drop of pre-cum appeared on the tip. I licked it off and then looked him in the eyes while I licked my lips, telling him that he tasted good. Then, before he knew what was happening, I swallowed his dick, doing it just like Stefan had told me to, just like I'd practiced on Ace.

 

“Oh fuck that feels good!” he said. “God yes.” He was pumping his hips into my mouth, and I gagged a few times, but it was fun to give him so much pleasure. “Oh man, you're gonna make me cum. Look out, I'm gonna cum.”

 

He obviously expected me to stop blowing him so as not to swallow him, but I wanted to taste him. And then he blew. I felt my mouth fill up with liquid before I tasted it. The taste hit me and it was, well, different. Not pleasant, not unpleasant. Salty. I swallowed as fast as I could, taking his load, his essence.

 

He lay there panting and I braced myself for his wrath. Instead, his hand massaged my head softly. “Thanks Brad. That was fucking amazing. I've never felt anything like that before.”

 

“You're welcome,” I said. I didn't know what else to say. That I loved sucking his dick. That I loved the control that came with giving him such intense pleasure. Those things sounded too, well, gay. I didn't understand him well enough to go any further.

 

“What about you?” he asked thoughtfully. He reached down and touched my throbbing dick. “I want to watch you jack off.”

 

I grinned and sat up, aiming my dick at him and started stroking. He watched me, watched my hand move back and forth across my dick as I pleasured myself, and formed his mouth into an erotic “o” shape. It was too much for me and I came way too soon, shooting my load all over him.

 

“Sorry about that,” I said as I grabbed a towel to wipe him off. “I kind of got carried away.”

 

“I'm not complaining. It was pretty hot.” Then we got up and took a shower together and ended up jacking off again before we were done. We were 17 after all.

 

The next few days followed the same basic pattern. We'd get up and fuck around, then eat, surf, shower, and go out with Stef and Greg. Tonight, though, there was a big party and they promised to take us. It was at the house of some agent named Jackie Diamond.

 

Stef looked at us purposefully in the limo and grabbed our legs to get our attention. “OK my little cupcakes, we need to talk about this party. You are free to wander around and drink or do whatever you want. I'm not your mommy, although I could be your daddy if you want me to be,” he said, leering at Doug. Greg smacked him and Doug just laughed. He'd gotten used to Stef by now. “Anyway, there will be drugs there. Stick to pot, OK? Promise me?”

 

We both promised, although I'm not sure I'd be able to keep it if they had coke. That stuff was fun.

 

“Upstairs is a room where men go to fuck other men. You go in there at your own risk, got it?” We both nodded, scared and intrigued at the same time.

 

Jackie greeted us warmly. Apparently she and Stef were old friends. There were a lot of actors there; Way more actors than actresses. “Looks like we're at the gay party,” Doug said.

 

“Maybe you're right, but they have good booze and I'm gonna find myself some killer bud,” I told him.

 

We wandered around the party, talking to a lot of guys who flirted with us shamelessly. It was kind of fun to be young and attractive and to draw the attention of these guys. We finally ran into some young guy who was being cast as a minor character in an upcoming “Dallas” episode.

 

“So who are you going to be?” I asked.

 

“Some guy named Mickey Trotter.”

 

“Cool. You know where the weed is?” This guy was a little hunk, and I kept thinking that maybe if he got us high he'd show us where the fun was. I hadn't quite figured out what I'd do with Doug if he didn't want to play.

 

“I do. Follow me.” We went upstairs to a room that was off to the side and he led me in. There were people passing a joint around, which I grabbed right away. Doug and I took a few hits off of it. It was good, but not as good as the stuff at Escorial. Then someone pulled out a tray with lines and I did a few. Doug didn't, but he didn't seem pissed that I did.

 

“I'm gonna go back down and get another beer. I'll catch up with you later,” he said. I just nodded. I hoped the coke hadn't bugged him.

       

“You want to see the rest of the house,” Mickey Trotter said to me. I realized I didn't know his name, and I realized that I didn't care.

 

“Sure,” I said. He led me off to a room and locked the door behind us.

 

“You're one hot guy,” he said as he moved up to me and grabbed my hardening dick through my pants. His eyes bulged. “Holy shit!” He moved quickly to undo my zipper and take out my dick. “You are fucking huge!” He started taking off his clothes as he dropped to his knees and took me into his mouth.

 

I'd been blown before, but never by someone who knew what they were doing. It was fucking awesome. He took me in deep and made love to my dick with his mouth. I didn't last long before I blew down his throat.

 

“That was fun, but I was hoping I could get you to fuck me,” he said, disappointed. I ran my hands over his hot body and knelt in front of him, taking his dick into my mouth. He wasn't too big, which made him fun to suck. What was really cool about this guy is that he knew I was a rookie so he guided me through it, giving me pointers.

 

I could tell he was getting hot and I was getting excited, waiting for him to blow, when he pulled me up to his lips and kissed me. He worked his mouth like a pro, just like he'd done on my dick, and he had me up and ready again. “I knew that you were a young stud,” he said as he pulled out a bottle of lube.

 

He lay down on the bed and lubed his hole and my dick. “You ever fuck a guy?” he asked. I shook my head. “Well, I can take that thing if you go slowly at first, but a guy who isn't used to it is going to take some time to loosen up.” He guided the head of my dick up to his hole. I didn't see how my huge dick was going to fit in there, but I pushed in, slowly but firmly, and watched him grimace. He cried out a little bit and then I felt the head pop through what felt like a ring. He was panting really heavily. I pushed into him farther and farther until I buried myself in him. The sensation was amazing. So much tighter than Karen.

 

“OK, now pump me, slow at first.” he commanded. I started thrusting in and out, and as I did I watched his expression change from a cringe of pain to a crazed look of passion. “Oh yeah, that's it. Now fuck me. Fuck me hard. Fuck me stud!” he cried. I caught the flavor of the mood and started pounding him. He lay there, moaning and groaning in what looked like sheer bliss, his hard cock throbbing and leaking like a sieve. “Fuck yeah, that's it, keep going. You're gonna make me cum. Fuck yeah.” And then, without either of us touching his dick, he exploded and shot stream after stream all over himself. The sensation his ass made when he came, the quivering, set me free.

 

“Ok, ok, stop, you have to stop now,” he said after he was done. I was too far gone.

 

“No fucking way,” I said, and kept slamming into him as I shot my load. He squirmed around under me and it looked like he actually shot a few more times, but I really didn't know because I was way too busy blowing my wad into him. As soon as I was done I pulled out. I felt guilty for not stopping when he told me to.

 

“I'm sorry about that. I guess I got carried away.”

 

“Don't be sorry stud, that was fucking awesome. You're the best fuck I've had in a long time. You gonna be here for a while?”

 

“I'm not sure.”

 

He pulled out a piece of paper and wrote a few things down on it. “Here's my number. Call me if you want a repeat performance.” Then he kissed me, put on his clothes and left me sitting in the room, satisfied and a little confused.

 

I got myself together and went downstairs, grabbed a beer, and found Doug hanging out by himself. “Hey!” I said cheerfully.

 

“Hey,” he said glumly.

 

“What's wrong?” I asked.

 

“Oh nothing. I was looking for you. I went back upstairs and you weren't there.”

 

“Yeah, I was pretty fucked up. I kind of got lost.” He looked pissed. “You're not mad at me are you? I'm sorry Doug. I didn't mean to desert you.”

 

There was something else bothering him, but he seemed placated by my apology. I guess the fact that I apologized even if I didn't know what I did wrong was acceptable. I rolled my eyes at people in general, and their emotional bullshit in particular.

       

Stefan and Greg were ready to leave around midnight, and quite frankly, so was I. Doug was hammered, totally blasted, and pretty funny. “Going home?” he asked, slurring.

 

“Yeah. Going home,” I said. Stefan and I laughed at him, but Greg was more sympathetic.

 

“You say goodbye to the Dallas guy?” he asked me when we were in the car.

 

“Yeah, I told him goodbye from both of us.”

 

Doug grinned at Stefan. “Dallas guy likes Brad.” We said nothing. “Brad made the Dallas guy squeal like a pig.” And then he started laughing, at what I'd done, or at his “Deliverance” reference, I didn't know.

 

I blushed three shades of red. “Right,” I said, trying to deny it.

 

Doug got almost pissed. “You did, don't lie.” He sat back in the seat looking kind of sad. I looked to Stefan for help but he just shook his head.

 

My mother is French and so is Stefan and we both speak the language fluently. So Stefan looked at me and spoke in French so Doug wouldn't understand. “I think your friend has a crush on you and he's a little jealous.”

 

“I like him Stef, and we fucked around a little bit, but I figured he was just horny, and straight. I really like him a lot. Even when he's drunk like this.” Doug had collapsed on the seat, passed out. We got home and Greg and I helped him out of the limo and up the stairs to the bathroom where he rewarded our efforts by puking in the toilet. Thank God he didn't do it in the car.

 

I took off his clothes so they wouldn't get messed up and stroked his back briefly while he puked. Then I just left him alone and headed to bed. I was almost asleep when he finally came to bed. He snuggled up to me, not like before, but in a much more affectionate way. He put his head on my chest and I stroked his back gently with my right hand.

 

“So you're gay, huh?” he asked me, in perfect, flawless French. I shit a brick.

Copyright © 2011 Mark Arbour; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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I have found out that someone else could understand me when I use a foreign  language only in my case it was German. There was one incident where a friend and I were in a beer garden on New Year's eve in Stuttgart, when an motherly woman leaned across the aisle and asked if I wanted to sleep with her in very poor English, I replied that I would rather sleep with her son, but I did it in German (Okay, adequate, but not perfect). She started telling her friend that I "walked on the other side of the river", which is a German idiom for being gay. I interrupted with a question about how old was her son, she replied twelve, so I said for her to tell him to come to see me in about five years. We had a good laugh at that and she told me that my reluctance was too bad! No, I did not sleep with either her or her son, but we had quite a laugh over it.

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On 8/22/2013 at 2:59 PM, centexhairysub said:

I love how Mark is able to draw real people into his stories, even if they were just minor celebs and make them part of the plotting. French is something that at a certain level of education or society that a lot of people speak, sort of suprised that Brad and Stef just assumed that Doug could not...

I grew up in the same circles that Brad did, albeit 15 years later, but the same type people, education levels, wealth, etc and almost no one I knew spoke French. The guys I knew who spoke foreign languages spoke their family languages, which means I had friends who spoke Italian, Armenian/Russian, Greek and Persian. Within a few years that expanded to Spanish and Mandarin, but still no fluent French speakers. We could all order off a French menu and sound like we knew what we were doing, but the same was true at Japanese restaurants.

But back to Brad. What is with the fucked up men of CAP? First off Brad promised Stef he would not do cocaine, and we know how Stef hates to be lied to. Second, I understand that high school kids drink, but most do it sneaking around, I think it is completely wrong that Stef takes two 17 year olds to a Hollywood party and gives them the okay to drink. I think it is completely irresponsible. I knew kids in high school whose parents supplied the alcohol for their parties. The guys I was friends with and hung around and I thought those were douchebag parents, not cool parents.

Third, if I had gone to an adult party with the object of my lust, someone I was just getting to know and liked, and had done the things with him that Brad already has, no way do I let him out of my sight at the party. I'd be on him like his little shadow and never leave his side; not clingy, but subtle. I sure as hell wouldn't be impressed by a B actor (except of course Mark-Paul Gosselaar or Jonathan Taylor Thomas, the objects of many JO sessions).

Maybe it happens in the next chapter, but if I was Brad, I so would have so had a driver take Doug down to Newport so he could show me his favorite spots to surf, maybe even hang with a few of his old friends.

Very last, I'd think Stef would have insisted Brad use protection, based on Stef's experiences in the Hollywood sex scene. While AIDS not named yet, it was certainly already in LA. The Dallas star that Brad fucked was a Hollywood fuck boy and would be dead from AIDS before the end of the decade.

  • Like 2
3 hours ago, PrivateTim said:

But back to Brad. What is with the fucked up men of CAP? First off Brad promised Stef he would not do cocaine, and we know how Stef hates to be lied to. Second, I understand that high school kids drink, but most do it sneaking around, I think it is completely wrong that Stef takes two 17 year olds to a Hollywood party and gives them the okay to drink. I think it is completely irresponsible. I knew kids in high school whose parents supplied the alcohol for their parties. The guys I was friends with and hung around and I thought those were douchebag parents, not cool parents.

We're seeing the final days of the Hedonistic 70's, i.e. the Last Days of Disco, before the panic over AIDS and the Reagan election ushered in a conservative era. 

  • Like 2
On 7/5/2023 at 11:28 AM, PrivateTim said:

I grew up in the same circles that Brad did, albeit 15 years later, but the same type people, education levels, wealth, etc and almost no one I knew spoke French. The guys I knew who spoke foreign languages spoke their family languages, which means I had friends who spoke Italian, Armenian/Russian, Greek and Persian. Within a few years that expanded to Spanish and Mandarin, but still no fluent French speakers. We could all order off a French menu and sound like we knew what we were doing, but the same was true at Japanese restaurants.

It was different in 1980.  You had to take a language (Choices:  Spanish, French, or German) and because Doug’s mom is a social climber, she would have pushed him hard to become competent in French. 

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49 minutes ago, Mark Arbour said:

It was different in 1980.  You had to take a language (Choices:  Spanish, French, or German) and because Doug’s mom is a social climber, she would have pushed him hard to become competent in French. 

Ha ha, I took three years of high school French and all I could do is ask where the cinema was (où est le cinéma) and say I am sick (je suis malade). I learned more French in bumming through France for three weeks than I did in three years in HS.

But I think Jeremy's explanation for Doug knowing French was that in general, rich and cultured people spoke French and that just isn't my experience.

  • Like 2
On 7/19/2023 at 3:47 PM, PrivateTim said:

Ha ha, I took three years of high school French and all I could do is ask where the cinema was (où est le cinéma) and say I am sick (je suis malade). I learned more French in bumming through France for three weeks than I did in three years in HS.

But I think Jeremy's explanation for Doug knowing French was that in general, rich and cultured people spoke French and that just isn't my experience.

I agree with you now.  I wouldn’t have in 1980

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