Boy Story: The Road Taken - 24. The “G” Word

The “G” Word

Parker and I had finished with our...ahem...video game and we were en route up the stairs just in time to say good-bye to Aunt Helen before she went out the door.

She looked at us and said, “What video game leaves two handsome boys with messed up hair?”

I immediately froze and looked at Parker. Because of the low lighting in the basement, I hadn’t noticed his hair was all messed up until she mentioned it.

Parker barely managed to spit out “Uh...” when Helen went on and said, “Don’t worry boys I have that same video game at home. I just don’t get a chance to play it as often as I used to.”

“Now Parker, you take care sweety and I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon,” Aunt Helen continued and gave Parker a big hug.

“And Matthew, it was a pleasure meeting you and I will be seeing you again soon enough,” and she gave me a hug. “And remember what I told you.”

“Yes, sure. I’ll remember,” I tried.

Then she took hold of our hands each in hers, and proclaimed, “Be good to each other...” And then whispered, “And your choice of video game will be our little secret, OK?”

“Yeah, thanks. Good-bye Auntie,” Parker managed.

“Bye, nice meeting you,” I added. And we both waved to her through the glass in the front door.

Once she was in the car, Parker continued waving to her and while trying not to move his lips said, “Wow, she busted us big time.” He closed the door and looked at himself in a nearby wall mirror and fixed his messy hair. I followed suit.

I turned and said to Parker, “Your Aunt Helen is pretty cool.”

He simply said, “OUR Aunt Helen.” And he hugged me to demonstrate her penchant for hugging people.

As we climbed back up the stairs to the living room, he asked, “What was it she told you to remember?”

“Oh, that you were a national treasure and I need to treat you like one. I had no argument there,” I disclosed.

He simply let out the cutest little laugh in response.

I left out the “don’t fuck it up” part because that was meant just for me.

When we entered the den, Ginny was reading a book and watching some TV at the same time. That’s when I saw my opening. “Hey Ginny, I need to speak to you and Parker about something that might be a good idea.”

“OK, shoot,” she said while Parker stood silent to hear what I had to say.

“Well, next weekend at my dorm, there will be an end of semester fiesta that we are having right before finals. I was thinking I could invite Parker as a guest. I could give him a tour of the campus and then bring him to the fiesta to meet some of the people he’ll be living with in the fall. And to get the full campus life experience, he can sleep over in a dorm room. How does that sound?”

“Oh, I think that’s a great idea! What do you think, Parker?” Ginny was quick to reply.

“Um, sure,” he seemed a little hesitant in his response because it would be a lot of new things all at once. Parker wasn’t normally a person who liked a large dose of unfamiliar suddenly thrust upon him, so I understood his reserved response.

“Don’t worry Parker, I will be with you every step of the way. I think you’ll enjoy it. My friends are pretty cool and I’m sure they’ll like you.”

When describing the event, I was careful to say “fiesta” rather than what it actually was—a party. There was almost assuredly going to be an array of alcoholic beverages and perhaps a little herb available for sampling. I was not a big drinker and not really into smoking weed, but I did partake once in a while just as a way of being social. I’ve always been a pretty mellow person and I found that pot made me really sleepy. Parker once told me in a discussion that he had never tried pot.

His mom left the room with her book and at last Parker said, “If I go to this dorm thing with you, what are we...I mean, how are we going to handle it. Like when I’m out to people, it’s always people I know and trust. I really don’t know your friends that well. Do they know about me and you? Do they know about you? Well, I suppose it’s a bit different for you because you’re not gay. You’re like bisexual or something, so I’d be the only gay person there, right?”

OK, Parker was feeling a little uncomfortable about the unknown. Although he identified as gay, he was free of all of the baggage that comes with gay culture. He was straight acting and appearing (or at least ambiguous) and he wasn’t into drag, show tunes, theater, ballet, or any of the other things people expect when meeting someone who says he is gay. So from that perspective Parker wasn’t gay, so much as he was simply into guys. But for most people, someone who is into guys is gay. If you sleep with, have sex with, and are in love with another guy, does this mean you’re gay? If so, that would mean I’m gay, too. And Parker would disagree with that. (OK, the fact that he had a “straight” boyfriend fantasy was a big turn on for him…so he wasn’t completely objective on the matter.) But is there another label that’s more appropriate in a boy/boy world that’s void of tea dances, Cher concerts, and limp wrists? Is it possible to be simply homosexual or does that now make it something different called “queer”?

But queer is still another term that comes with its own baggage. The original definition of the word queer is odd or abnormal. Is a homosexual boy OK with being labeled with a word that means abnormal? To that boy, loving someone of the same sex feels as normal as walking or putting on clothes in the morning. There’s nothing queer about that.

Sure, words change over time. One example that comes to mind is reflected in the westernmost area on Martha’s Vineyard. This part of the island was named Gay Head by the English explorer who discovered the island in the 1600s. It was named for the cliffs formed of multicolored clay which he described as “gaily colored cliffs on a head of land protruding to the west,” thus Gay Head. Over the years, Martha’s Vineyard has become a favorite summer vacation spot for U.S. Presidents and their families. Also over the years, both words “Gay” and “Head” have picked up alternate meanings, but used together they are a double whammy. At the tail end of the 20th century, the residents of Gay Head voted to change the name of the town back to the original native American name of Aquinnah. Of course the townsfolk, many who are descendants of the original Wampanoag tribe, will tell you it was changed because an Indian place should have an Indian name...regardless, most people believe it was more likely that they didn’t want their town to be named after a gay sex act.

So maybe years from now the word “queer” might outlive its negative history and be embraced as the correct term by everyone. It took nearly 400 years for Gay Head to become obsolete, so maybe queer has another 300 years to go before it becomes fully accepted.

Personally, I never use the term because I view it as a slur and I’m not the only one. I hear the term gay more often than I hear queer. And when I do hear the word queer used, it's almost exclusively by people in the gay community. Hey gay community, do you really want to be viewed as abnormal? I thought the idea was to move the world away from that perception.

(Sorry that I digressed into a history lesson, but it was important to get that out. Now back to our story.)

“Well Parker,” I began, “perhaps we’ll just keep the fact that we are ‘a couple’ out of the public consciousness for now at least. Things may change later to alter that, but right now Joe is the only person who knows. He’s cool with it and he’s agreed to keep it to himself. There are factions of redneck frat boys who would probably be happy to make life a living hell for us on campus if word got out, so we do have to tread lightly. If we were attending a more liberal college, it likely wouldn’t be a problem. But we get all sorts on our campus, so it’s best that we choose our battles wisely.

“So if that’s the case, what’s my cover story for being at the shindig?”

“You don’t need a cover story. You are a friend of mine, you will be a student there next semester, and you’ll be my roommate. So we’re giving you a head start. And all of that is true. Of course, if someone asks questions about a girlfriend, you can say you’re in a committed relationship or if they ask how we know each other, you just say because we’re neighbors.”

“We’re neighbors?”

“Sure, we sleep right next to each other, right?”

“Ha ha, I see, so it’s kinda like addressing the situation by omission and exaggeration.”

“It can be. Just remember, what you don’t say is sometimes more important than what you do say. And if a conversation gets too close for comfort, turn it around to get them talking about themselves. If worse comes to worse, you might have to stretch the truth a little.”

“OK, I can live with that,” he replied. “But aren’t they going to ask about why Joe is no longer your roommate?”

“They may be a little surprised, but everyone knows Joe has wanted to live in Towers since he got there, so now’s his chance. And he will be at the party to back it up.”

“Oh, so I get to meet Joe.”

“Yup.”

“And he’s not mad at me for stealing you away?”

“No, he’s a good friend, so he understands. Plus he’s eager to meet you.”

Parker seemed to relax after that, especially when I mentioned that we’d be hanging out with my friends at the party and my friends are a really cool bunch.

At that point, Ginny returned to tell us, “Hey, I rented a movie for tonight if you guys are interested. It’s called Chasing Amy and it’s supposed to be good according to someone at work.”

We both expressed interest. “So how does 9:00 sound?” she asked.

“OK, can me and Matt watch TV until then?”

“May Matt and I watch TV...” she corrected his grammar. “Yes, go ahead I have a few things to do first.”

We flipped through the channels and found an interesting news show on one of the cable channels about plastic surgery gone wrong and settled on that.

Ginny was in the kitchen at about 8:50, and we could smell the popcorn being microwaved. We settled in and watched the movie and it turned out to be pretty good. Parker even tried to feed me popcorn…OK, he did feed me popcorn…to commemorate our first date. Ginny looked over with a puzzled stare, deciding if she should chastise Parker for being unruly. I said, “Don’t worry, it’s an inside joke.”

With about 15 minutes left in the movie, Parker asked her to pause it so he could take a leak...and he also brushed his teeth while he was in the vicinity. He returned to the sofa and said, “I left a new toothbrush for you in the bathroom.”

“Oh sure, thanks,” I replied.

We finished the movie, cleaned up our popcorn mess, and said goodnight to Ginny while complimenting her on her film choice.

I headed to the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth. I took my leak first and when I got to the sink, I saw the sweetest gesture. There, sticking up next to Parker’s red toothbrush in the holder, was a blue toothbrush that had “Matthew” printed on it. I had been shuttling my own toothbrush back and forth in my overnight bag since I started staying over, so this simple sweet gesture melted my heart. I had been elevated to gain status in his toothbrush holder and I had my name emblazoned on a brush that would now be there for me in the future. I stood there staring at it and I made that “Aww” sound that people make when they see a cute puppy.

I took hold of the blue toothbrush and put it to good use. When finished, I walked into the bedroom where Parker was undressing, and I wrapped my arms around the bare-chested boy and began kissing him deeply.

He said, “Wow, who wound you up?”

“Parker, that toothbrush is the sweetest thing! Thank you so much!”

“Oh, you’re welcome. I was at the pharmacy getting some stuff and I passed this rack with personalized toothbrushes. I didn’t think anything of it until I passed it again and saw Matthew on a blue toothbrush. I just HAD to get it. I looked for one for me, but they had Patrick, Paul, Peter, and Philip…but no Parker.

“That’s because you’re one of a kind,” I replied.

“Don’t stop kissing me.”

“I have the best boyfriend in the world,” I said as I returned to tasting all parts of his mouth.

“Yeah, I am pretty good, aren't I?” he managed to get out while I nibbled on his lips. “And minty fresh!”

“OK, let’s take a short break so I can go back out to the den and get my overnight bag,” I remembered.

I went out to the den to retrieve my bag and returned to Parker’s room. I closed the door and turned to see him lying on his back in the middle of the bed, not a stitch on, feet up in the air, and legs spread.

“Uh oh, it appears that someone—or something—needs to be fed!” I stated standing at the foot of the bed drinking in his magnificent nakedness.

“Uh huh, and do you have something to feed it.”

“Of course I always carry it with me.”

“Is it a meat product?”

“Why yes, it is.”

“Good because my boy hole needs to be appeased,” he said anxiously.

“Appeased?”

“Yes, please appease!”

I reached over to the drawer in the nightstand to get the lube. As I picked it up, I grabbed a hand towel, too. Under the towel, was a large dildo. I grabbed that as well.

"I guess you won't be needing this now with me around," I said waving the dildo around. We both started giggling.

"Not exactly," he replied. "I got that because of you."

"Whaddya, mean?"

"I actually use it quite often, so I can get used to your size without causing pain the next day," he elaborated. "If you notice, it's about your size."

"So you use this to practice?"

"Yeah, some guys go to the gym to get physically ready for the activity of their choice. I just go to my bedroom...or sometimes the shower," he said with a grin.

I examined the peach-colored, latex-free dong. It looked big. I put it up to my public bone. "Like this?"

"Yup, that's about right!" he declared as he eyeballed it.

I never realized it before. He was right. I was kind of big.

I popped open the lube and began to make preparations while Parker positioned himself lying face up in the center of the bed. I greased my index finger and slowly inserted it into his little pink pucker as he pulled his knees to his chest. I rotated my finger around to get the lube spread. Then I greased up my middle finger and added it to the index finger and got them both in there. I had him moaning in short order. I positioned my body between his legs and then he pressed the soles of his feet flat against my chest. I lubed my hardness and said “Ready?” For the next 10 seconds or so, I was trying to find his hole with my magic wand. He finally said, “Wait,” and grabbed my staff and helped guide it to his entrance.

As I squeezed into him, he let out a long high-pitched exhale. He reached up and wrapped his arms around me and pulled me on top of him then wrapped his legs around my waist. I leaned forward and he whispered into my ear “oh yeah, fuck me, baby.” Well, we certainly weren’t going to play tiddlywinks.

He was like magic. When I was fully inserted into him, there was like some kind of muscle or something up inside him that would clamp on to my piston just below the head. So as I worked it in and out, I would get this clamping and unclamping sensation as if I was being jerked off. There was quite possibly no sensation in the world that could surpass that feeling when banging a boy...or perhaps banging just this boy. And over time he began to get very good at opening himself up to me. Sure, there were still instances where he’d urge me on and in response I’d pound him a little too vigorously. And wouldn’t you know, he’d wake up with a sore butt the next day. But over time, he practiced as much as he needed to accommodate my size and avoid an unpleasant aftermath.

Sometimes we’d just get right to it because we couldn’t stand waiting to climax any longer. Other times, like this night, we were engrossed with making it last as long as we could to prolong the pleasure. While making it last, we’d often try several different positions and they had to be completed in the correct order for maximum gratification: missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, and doggie. When finished, we’d usually collapse face down with me on top of him. My face would be buried somewhere into his back, his face would be buried in a pillow, and my Johnson would be buried in his backside. Then we’d wait for our breathing to return to normal and go clean up.

On this particular evening, when I was about to get up to clean off, Parker said, “No, just leave it in while we sleep.” I’d never even considered that before, but it sounded sexy. So I did as he asked and we lay on our right sides, my front right up against his back, and we fell asleep.

When I awoke, I wasn’t sure what time it was, but I could see the morning sun peeking through the blinds. The illuminated alarm clock was behind us, but I certainly wasn't going to move everything just to see what time it was. That’s when I remembered that we went to sleep with me still inside him...and it seemed like we hadn’t moved from our original position. I slid the palm of my hand between us like a putty knife starting at about my sternum and slowly sliding it down to my crotch. I found the root of my meat pole and my balls, but to my surprise, Mr. Winky was flaccid yet still inside him. We slept an entire night with my dick up his butt! I’d never felt such a level of closeness to anyone before.

Of course my discovery wasn’t without one side effect as I felt my flaccidity slowly ebbing away. I wondered if that would wake Parker—interestingly enough, it didn’t. So now I found myself with a throbbing boner inside a sleeping boy.

What to do?

I figured since Parker wanted it kept in, he was probably planning on some morning maneuvers. Taking this into account, I began slowly sliding it back and forth in its current position. This worked very well in waking the sleeping boy.

His first words of the day were, “Mmm, there’s nothing like a good raping first thing in the morning.” I rolled over slightly so I was on top of him and he pretended to fall back asleep face down. I spread his legs wide and groped his sweet little bubble butt a bit, which was staring right at me. I ended the harassment with two good hard slaps, one to each mound being sure to keep my rod implanted in his void the entire time.

I reached over and grabbed the lube and slowly backed myself out, but not all the way, just enough to squirt some lube on my shaft to help prevent rug burn. Then I buried it back into him and I heard him groan into his pillow. After a few pumps, the lube had a chance to work itself around. I began to pump him hard and deep and with every thrust, he responded with a grunt into the pillow. I soon felt his inside gripping device in full operation. I banged him repeatedly until I came hard and long, deep into his guts. Eventually I was out of ammo and it was over.

As I came down from my endorphin rush, I realized that since he was lying flat and face down, Parker had no access to his front to get himself off. So I peeled my face off his back, and pulled myself out of him. I whispered, “Do you want me to finish you off?”

He said, “You already did.” He rolled to the side to reveal a puddle of cum on his sheets under him.

“Wow, looks like you sprung a leak!” I mused.

“C’mon time to take a shower…there’s cum and lube everywhere!” he said assessing the scene.

“And then we have some sheets to wash...before mom wakes up!”

Teenage boys can make quite a mess.

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