The Year I Stopped Being Invisible - 14. Chapter 14

I went to Linda's house after dinner on Sunday night. Sunday was Rex's big cooking night, and he made Tynah and me these amazing stuffed bell peppers, with ground beef, onions, and a tomato sauce delicate enough to get past my dislike of tomatoes in general and gloppy tomato sauce in particular.

After helping Tynah clear the table and wash and dry the dishes, I went to take a shower and get ready.

While I was in the shower, I soaped myself slowly and began thinking about what had happened at Jeff's house on Saturday afternoon.

Although the circumstances had been less than ideal, and the end of it had been emotionally painful, Jeff had shown me a part of my body which I hadn't known before, and that was the secret, nutlike pleasure spot inside me. The prostate, which had given me heretofore unexperienced pleasure, and the most powerful and explosive orgasm of my young life.

With no hands on my rod, no less.

Because I didn't know any of its other nicknames, I began to think of it as my "panic button." Now that the minor tears and fissures of Jeff's invasive entrance had healed, I felt as if I could finally begin to explore my newfound toy, and I began my exploration in the shower that night.

Heavily soaping both my hands, I let my right hand grasp my smooth, circumcised cock, lubing it thoroughly for action. My left hand, meanwhile, went around my slim hips, over the glistening wet skin of my sleek young buttocks until it found the shallow crease in between.

As I ran my soapy right hand up and down my pulsing young boyhood, my left middle finger found its way down that crease and began teasing and soaping my tight, hairless pink pucker. I was already pretty worked up, so it didn't take much relaxing time until my soapy digit worked its way past both muscled, pulsing rings and into my incredibly warm inner sanctum. There was no pain this time, as it was healed and clean.

I had to feel around a bit -- my memory of the experience having been a bit hazed by the nitrous and poppers -- before I located the magic spot.

But there it was, a little more than an inch past the second ring on the front side (what the pre-med kids called the "anterior") of my inner space. The skin felt a tiny bit thicker, and the hard lump of my panic button was about the size of half a chestnut. The pace of my right hand's grip on my slender young cock increased as I began to probe and explore the tender spot.

It felt good, but I wasn't getting enough pressure, and I was coming at it from the wrong angle. I withdrew my middle finger and began soaping it as well as my ring finger, then achieving re-entry with both, this time from the front, between my legs, so I could make a beckoning gesture toward the front of my body. My balls bounced on my left arm as I tugged my cock harder with my right hand, my soapy erection sawing back and forth through my clenched fist.

I smiled inwardly as I fleetingly realized that my left hand was now making the famed "Hook 'em Horns" sign which all fans of the University of Texas football team would recognize. But it was happening inside me! I felt gleefully naughty as the shower bathed me with warmth, my right hand busily stroked my throbbing young dick, and the middle and ring fingers of my left hand thrust in and out, stimulating my panic button until all...systems...were...GO!

"AHHHHHHHHHH-AHHHHHHHH-AHHHHHH" I cried, as my body began to convulse in spasmic, ecstatic release. My slick scrotum pulled close to my body, one ball actually popping up into the canal from where it came. My tight rosebud clenched spasmodically against my thrusting fingers. My steely-hard cock began spurting thick, arcing shots of boycream all over the walls of the shower.

My body shook, shivered, and quaked as I felt my knees turn to jelly with the force of my climax, driving me down to kneel on the floor of the tub as I continued to hammer my panic button with my left hand, quivering as I coaxed out the last of my young spunk with my right.

Oh, wow, was all I could think as my slippery, slender young body continued to shake with the enduring paroxysms of my unbelievably intense solo orgasm.

The water beat down upon my hunched back as I leaned forward, my head almost touching my knees as the waves of pleasure continued to course through my long, thin frame. I stayed like that for a while, then shakily got to my feet and washed myself and the shower walls off. There had been no pain this time, no blood, and I knew that I had found something which would become a regular, cherished part of my sexual life.

* * * * *

I was supposed to be at Linda's at 8:00 to run through our Duet Acting scene from Same Time, Next Year for the Chamberlain tournament five days hence, so I had a while to craft a letter. Since Taine's house was on the way to Linda's, I decided that I would slip a note under Taine's door on the way.
I knew Sly was going out for the evening with my Biology teacher, as I saw her day planner open on her desk on Friday, so I knew that Taine would be the only person who would read what I wrote.

I also knew that Sly respected Taine's privacy, so I pilfered an envelope from Rex's study, sealed it, and wrote TAINE on the front. This was the letter I wrote:

Dear Taine,

I am very sorry about your mom, and I am also sorry if anything happened last week that made you feel uncomfortable. I didn't mean to make you think I was taking advantage of your grief, because I wasn't. My heart went out to you, that's all.

Well, that's not all. Ever since I met you, all I do is think about you. You have made my transition to Polk a happier one. I lost my mother too, don't forget, and even though she's still alive, I don't think I'll ever see her again. Like you, I have had to move from place to place to place, losing friends along the way. And, like you, I don't make friends very easily to begin with.

But from the first time I saw you, I knew that you were different. That you were special, because you could really see me and I could really see you. And I don't think either one of us has ever been seen as clearly or as deeply by anyone else.

We've both been through a lot of pain, and I think it's easier if we face it together. I understand if you're uncomfortable with the things that happened between us last week. I was pretty surprised by them too.

Surprised, but not unhappy or scared. I don't know what any of it means, but I'll tell you what I think...I think it means that we're two people who found each other in a lonely and scary world, and it doesn't need any other name than that.

I want us to be friends again. I want us to not be afraid of going deeper with each other because we think someone will call us names or label our friendship.

It doesn't mean we're going to go dancing down the street spitting rainbows. All it means is that one person has found another person who understands.

And that's pretty rare, and I don't think we should throw it away because of other peoples' ignorance or our own fear. Get back to me if you understand, and it can be a letter slipped into the grate of my locker or under my door like this one.

I just need to know you hear me, and understand that all of my intentions and thoughts and feelings about you have always been, and will always remain...

Nothing but the best.

Rick.

* * * * *

I got on my bike and began pedaling down the street to Linda's house, the letter to Taine clutched tightly in my right hand as it gripped the black foam handlebar. I meant to deliver this letter or die trying, and as I saw Taine's house coming up on my left -- the red Lamborghini nowhere to be seen -- I tucked my tall, thin frame over the handlebars and pedaled as fast as I could.

I reached Taine's door in nothing flat, as I had learned to handle the delicate, 20-speed racing bike as roughly and hard as if there were a sticker along its sidepipe reading BMX. Screeching to a stop along Sly's lengthy driveway, I steeled myself, kicked out the kickstand and -- with a few glances over my shoulder to make sure no one else was watching -- marched myself right to Taine's front door.

I stood there for a moment, taking in the large oaken barrier to Taine, and sucked in a long, almost painful deep breath.

I heard Rex's voice in my head: "A man knows what he wants and goes after it."

I also started hearing voices from my past, previous schools, previous altercations: "Faggot! Queer! Cocksucker!"

But then I thought of Taine. That sweet, brittle angel. Lost in his grief, his mourning, his loneliness. The one person I had ever met whom I would allow to do anything to me.

Was he angry? I would let him hit me.

Was he sad? I would let him cry on me.

Was he horny? I would not think twice before sharing every single thing I had learned this week with him, and letting him pour out all his hurt, all his fear, all his sadness inside me.

I was in love with a boy. One boy, I told myself quickly, not all boys. I wasn't a faggot, a queer, a cocksucker, a gaylord. No...I was only gay for one amalgamation of molecules in the entire universe.

Taine.

He was my soulmate. I was sure of it. He was the only person in the world whom I would live or die for. My Taine...how could I win him? Could I ever? And -- if I couldn't -- would life even be worth living?

I took a deep breath, tried to remember my resolve from earlier in the day, and slid the note under the door.

As it disappeared from my grasp, I was filled with a terrible sense of foreboding...What if SLY found it? What if Sly READ it? What if Sly, filled with oil-stained, greasy macho fury, called Rex and Tynah, complaining about their pervert son who dared...DARED...to write this kind of letter?

What then?

I pictured him then -- my Babes. His thin, gaunt, pale face. The sweet, sexy cleft in his perfectly-angled chin. His high, delicate cheekbones, just waiting to be kissed. Those eyes. Those fucking eyes. That beautiful, thin, aquiline nose. Just there for me to run the very tip of my tongue lovingly across. That slim, slender, pale neck. A vampire's wet dream.

I knelt, one hand slowly working its fingers down the huge, oppressive oaken door. I closed my eyes, imagining my Babes on the other side of that door, dressed in his grey flannel pajamas, his soft, silky, virginally smooth feet sliding across the carpet on the other side of that door, accepting my confession.

Accepting my love, always and forever.

I slipped the note under the door and ran to my bike, as fast as my feet would carry me.