Jump to content
  • Join Gay Authors

    Join us for free and follow your favorite authors and stories.

    Mark Arbour
  • Author
  • 6,924 Words
  • 8,600 Views
  • 10 Comments
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. 

Chronicles Of An Academic Predator - 14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

 

July 6, 1962

Claremont, OH

As I'd noticed yesterday when I was packing, one of the problems with the Corvette was its size, or lack thereof. With the Pontiac I could cram all kinds of stuff in it. What didn’t fit in the trunk I could cram into the back seat. With the Corvette, there was barely enough room for my stuff and a bag for Jeff. We had approached it as a challenge, so he and I had packed and repacked the trunk until we'd gotten everything in. I stared at the bacon and eggs that Vella had made for us, forcing myself to eat them as quickly as I could. While I was hungry, I wasn't in the mood to eat. My overriding goal at this point was to get the fuck out of this town.

I'd said goodbye to my parents already, and both of them had already gone for the day. My father hurried off to work, as usual, while my mother said she had some sort of meeting. I don't know that I believed her, but she knew that I hated long drawn out farewells, so I think she just left just to make things easier. I gave Vella one last hug and headed to the door when the phone rang. I answered it.

My whole body filled with dread when I heard Tonto’s voice on the other end. “JP, I need to talk to you. I want you to come over and see me,” she said in a calm but imperious tone.

“I'm on my way out of town, and quite frankly, after yesterday, I have no desire to stop by.” The coldness in my voice belied the pain that was beneath it.

“I can understand that.” I was surprised to hear the lack of animosity in her voice. “I guess I can say what I have to say over the phone.”

“I’m listening,” I said, since she’d approached me in a positive way and I wanted her to know that I was paying attention. She paused as if gathering her thoughts.

“I'm not sure that I believe that what I witnessed yesterday was just a kiss, a simple mistake, but Stefan doesn't want to talk about it and quite frankly, neither do I. So I'm going to leave this whole thing between the three of us and try to put it behind me, out of my mind.”

“Thank you,” I replied lamely. “I hope you know that I wasn't trying to hurt anyone, least of all Stefan. I mean, I've worked really hard to be a friend to him, and to help him adapt to life in America. And he's been a good friend to me. He was the one who stayed with me in the hospital, made sure the nurses came when I needed them. I guess I let my feelings carry me away.”

“I understand,” she continued, with her level voice. “But I think that, under the circumstances, it would be a good idea for you to minimize your contact with him. And I think it would be in both your best interests to avoid being alone together, something that I'm going to have to insist upon.”

Being told that I couldn't be trusted to be alone with him was a major insult, one that my instincts and honor told me I must fight. But I was tired of Claremont, tired of Stefan: just plain tired. In the interest of easing my existence and speeding my departure, I caved. “That won't be a problem.”

“Good. I wanted you to come over so we could look each other in the eyes and I could tell you that I still love you, but that it will take some time to repair this breach in our relationship. Even though we didn’t get to do that, I think we're clear now.” She had no idea how painful it was to hear that from her.

“We're clear,” I said. Keeping it simple kept it short, and then I could maintain control of my emotions.

“Well then, you have an excellent trip to Chicago, and I'll see you at Thanksgiving.” And with that, she hung up.

I walked out to the car and thought about what she’d said. I guess I'd gotten off lightly. She was really mad and disappointed with me, but she'd pretty much said she'd get over it. I'd have to make a point to suck up to her and ease the process. I had to admit that I'd been really worried that she'd make a big deal out of this. It was entirely within her power to call the police and have me arrested. But I realized that as mad as she was, she'd never create such a scandal. She'd never blight our names, and even if she tried, Barry would bring her around. No, she'd gotten pissed off, but this would stay between the three of us. And even if she didn’t get over it, whatever happened I’d have to deal with it, but at least I'd be dealing with it from 400 miles away.

Perhaps the most surprising thing was that she didn't even ask me about my sexuality. She didn't ask me if I was gay, or if I liked girls. She didn't say anything about it at all. I tried to decide if that was because she bought my story that my embrace with Stefan was just a mistake and that I wasn’t queer; or that she decided that I was, and just didn’t want talk about it. I almost groaned when I thought about the worst outcome of all. If she decided that the reason I was fagging around with her grandson was because I didn't have a woman in my life, then she'd step up her matchmaking efforts to a crescendo. I was so glad I was leaving this town.

Jeff was standing expectantly by the car. I decided to drive, at least for the first leg, so I motioned him to take the passenger seat. “Come on Jeff, let's get out of here.”

“Gladly,” he said, and flashed me that killer smile of his.

I planned to drive by Mr. Pratt's office in Columbus and get my packet. I'd get a safe installed in my condo to put it in. In the meantime, I needed to get a handle on my assets. Now that I had all this money, maybe I'd put solid gold wallpaper on the walls in my condo. I laughed at the thought of doing something so ridiculously tasteless and gaudy, which earned me a sideways glance from Jeff. “Jeff, I need to make a quick stop in Columbus. After that, you can drive, OK?”

“OK with me,” he said casually.

It took me some time to extract my packet from the law firm. Mr. Pratt was in a meeting when I got there, and evidently I had to wait for him to get it from the safe. I wasn’t sure if that was standard procedure, or just because it was my item. Mr. Pratt finally emerged from the nether regions of his office and seemed surprised to see me.

“I came to retrieve the items you’ve been storing for me,” I said simply.

Now his surprise changed to concern. “Certainly Dr. Crampton, but are you sure the packet will be safe?” I was tired of his duplicity, of him claiming to know nothing when he knew it all.

“For someone who is unaware of the contents, Mr. Pratt, you seem unusually concerned about its safety and confidentiality.” I stared at him, willing him to admit that he knew more, but hoping that he'd just give me the packet so I could leave.

“Quite right,” he said and disappeared. A few minutes later he returned with the familiar parcel. Of course there was also a bill to pay for their safekeeping.

“Thank you Mr. Pratt,” I said, then shook his hand and left. I walked out of the building and found that Jeff had pulled the Corvette up front to wait for me, so I just hopped in and we left. “To Chicago!” I said dramatically.

“To Chicago,” he repeated, as he gunned the engine.

I was quiet for the first leg of our trip, as I processed all the events I’d dealt with over the past month. Jeff simply drove along and said nothing. I wasn't sure what to expect from him, but I found him to be a great traveling companion. He wasn't a party guy, like André, or a comic, like Peter. I didn't think he was passionate like Stefan, but based on the way his biceps bulged, I didn't think I'd be able to muster the courage to find out. No, he was just laid back. More than that, he didn't pry into my life or my thoughts. He oozed tranquility.

I must have seemed frazzled when we left, right after talking to Tonto, but he didn't comment on my mood or ask any questions. When I came out of Mr. Pratt's office, he didn't ask me what I was doing or whom I was seeing. André would have given me the third degree. When I put the packet that I'd gotten under my seat, he never asked what it was. I was finding Jeff to be totally disarming because he wasn't threatening. There was no reason for me to keep my defenses up with him because he never assaulted them.

“Look at that,” I said, pointing at a ridiculous ice cream stand by the side of the road, shaped like a big ice cream cone.

Most people would comment on how stupid it looked, but not Jeff. He just chuckled and asked: “Wonder what they put in the roof?” That's just how he was. We stopped for lunch, eating and not talking too much. By the time we were half way to Chicago, I found that I was relaxed and in pretty good spirits, something I never dreamed would be possible.

“So Jeff, they tell me you get good grades. What do you want to do with your life?” I felt kind of guilty asking him questions, since he didn't pry into my life, but I was starting to really like him as a person and I wanted to know more about him.

“I don't know really. I mean, I do well in all my classes, but I think I feel best when I'm working with facts. Like numbers, or science, or history even. I'm better at that than writing papers, or reading literature. We did Shakespeare last year and I never could get that guy.” I laughed at that.

“Me either,” I said. “So you're hoping for a scholarship?” I was really pushing it now, but I wanted to know. There was a long pause after I asked him that question. He swallowed a bit, so I stopped him before he answered. “Look Jeff, I don't mean to pry. You just seem like a good guy, and I'm enjoying your company, so I just wanted to learn a little bit more about you. So why don't you just share what you want to.”

He looked at me sideways while he was driving. “Yeah, I'm not keen on people asking me a whole bunch of questions, but it doesn't really bother me when you do.”

“Thanks,” I said, choosing to recognize that as a compliment. We drove on for a few miles in silence.

“Well, my parents, even if they hadn't kicked me out, they don't have no money for college. Plus my dad's always putting it down, saying only dudes go to college, and that real men get real jobs, and shit like that. But he's real cool with me playing football, and that's probably my best ticket, so he sort of supported me without really meaning to. So if I don't get a scholarship, then I'm not going.” As laid back as he was, I could tell that the thought of being stuck in a factory like his father and brothers was his idea of hell on earth.

“You know, there are other ways to get through school. For one thing, you can join the service. You like boats or dirt?” He chuckled at that, although his “chuckles” were more like a snort and a laugh combined into one sound: a snaugh.

“Guess I never thought about joining the army or the navy,” he said thoughtfully. “They’re better than the mill, but I don't know if I want to be in the military. Maybe it would work as a last resort.”

“Where do you want to go to college?” I'd known that I wanted to go to Harvard every since I had started high school, so I just assumed that everyone had some dream campus.

He shrugged, at least as much as he could while driving. “Never really thought much about it. Guess I figured I’d go to Ohio State, just ’cause it's close and it's all I could think of. I've never been on a college campus before, so I don't even know what to expect.” This boy was provincial beyond belief.

“Well, if you want to stay in Chicago for a few days, I'll show you around Northwestern, where I'll be teaching,” I said casually, then I got worried that I was pressuring him too much. “It's up to you though.”

His took his eyes off the road to look at me, and they were twinkling with excitement. “That would be incredible!” He seemed suddenly self-conscious. “Sorry, guess I'm pretty excited to see a big city.”

I laughed. “Don't be sorry. I’m looking forward to showing you around. Plus I know you're going to love my place.”

“I'm sure I will. How many bedrooms you got?” I wondered why he asked me that. Was he worried that he'd have to sleep with me? I was at that abyss, where I could go into a paranoid state and just block him out, but I decided to take a leaf out of Peter's book.

“Why, you worried you'll have to sleep with me? Afraid I'll rape you?” I couldn't help giggling.

He looked at me sideways. “Not likely.” I started really laughing at that, and so did he.

“No, I didn't mean nothing by that. If we gotta bunk up, it's fine with me. I was just kinda curious, trying to figure out how big the place was.” That made sense. When people shopped for a house, one of the most important characteristics was how many bedrooms it had.

We drove on in our relaxed state, and I was really enjoying myself. I tended to be a control freak when I was in a car, and I was usually only content when I was the one behind the wheel. Until today, the only person I’d felt comfortable riding with was André, but I found that I was just as relaxed with Jeff driving.

I glanced at Jeff and wondered what was buried beneath that exterior. It would be easy to see him as a big, dumb football player, but there was a great guy buried beneath that shell. It occurred to me that he projected his own image just like I did. Maybe that's why he was so easy to be around. Not only that, but the more I was around him, the more relaxed we both became.

We stopped to get gas in northern Indiana, and I decided to take over driving. It was the logical thing to do since we were close to Chicago, and I knew where I was going, and since I knew Jeff would want to stare at all the buildings. I also took that opportunity to put the top down, because that's really the only way to truly appreciate the Chicago skyline.

We passed through the South Side, which was dingy and dirty, and it smelled horrible. We drove by the factories that were spewing black smoke into the air, making me regret my decision to put down the top, then by the rows of tenement houses. Jeff didn't say anything as we drove through it. It probably reminded him of Claremont's East Side, a place he was trying to forget.

When we got closer to downtown, he couldn't contain himself. I could almost feel his excitement building until he blurted out: “Holy shit, look at those buildings!” He suddenly became nervous. “Sorry, I should watch my mouth.”

Chicago, 1962

I gave him a very irritated look. I wasn't some delicate flower. “What do you think I am, some chick at a debutante ball? You can even say fuck if you want to.” That got a snaugh.

He babbled on excitedly as we cruised up The Drive. “This city never ends. Do you live far from here?”

“See that bend in the shoreline way up there,” I said. I would have pointed but I didn't have a spare hand, so I gestured instead. “That's close to my place.”

He whistled. “This is just amazing.” After that, he quieted down. I think he was overwhelmed by the size and scope of the city and needed to shut down a bit to process it all. I enjoyed the silence, even as I contemplated how amazing my new home was.

We pulled up to my building and he looked over at me, then he looked up, then he looked back at me. “You live here?”

“This is it,” I said, even as I pulled into the garage.

“How high up are you?” I parked the car.

“Why, you afraid of heights?” I joked, pushing his shoulder playfully.

He frowned at me. “Don't know, never really been up high before.” He seemed a little apprehensive.

“Well, I'm not on the top, only the 20th floor. It's a little weird at first, but I think you'll like it.” He looked at me dubiously. I decided to challenge him a little bit. “Don't worry, I'll hold your hand if it will make you feel better.”

He rolled his eyes at me. “Let's go.”

I stopped in the lobby to check in with the Concierge and introduce Jeff to him. I wanted to make sure Jeff could get into the building without getting hassled. I took that opportunity to check my mailbox, but it was empty. That shouldn’t really have been a big surprise, but I was secretly hoping for a letter from André.

We got in the elevator and it rocketed up. I could tell Jeff was nervous. He looked at the numbers as they ticked up. “Is that the floor we're on?”

“Yep,” I said, mimicking his style.

The elevator opened and we walked to my door. I was so excited to be back in my own space, my own condo, my hands were trembling a little bit as I fumbled with the key. “Welcome home,” Jeff said, probably to calm me down a bit. I opened the door and walked in, and it was almost as cool this time as it was the first time I did it, only that time Stefan was with me. The thought of him ticked me off, almost blew my whole mood, but I pushed him out of my mind. I noticed a bunch of boxes off to the side, some of the stuff I shipped here a while back, but they were just a minor annoyance to my otherwise beautiful condo.

Once we made it through the door and out of the entryway, the whole vista of Chicago was on display. I glanced at the view, but I was mostly focused on Jeff, watching to see his reaction. His mouth hit the floor, almost figuratively, and he was walking erratically, like he’d had a few drinks. He seemed dizzy from the height. I wasn't sure if he was afraid, or if he just wasn't used to it, so I kind of nudged him toward the guest room. It and the study had smaller windows, so I figured he could acclimate there.

“This is your room. I just got this bed so it should be pretty comfy. Through that door is your bathroom.” I'd had the foresight to change the sheets and towels before I left.

“This is just amazing JP. Just amazing.” He seemed so overwhelmed he was paralyzed.

“Well, I'm going to go crash for about an hour and take a shower. Why don't you rest up too, then we'll go get some dinner.”

“OK,” he said, but he still seemed very uneasy.

“Before you sack out, do you want to see my room?” He nodded and I led him down the hall to the master suite.

I gave him a brief tour, and even though the tall windows were still freaking him out, he didn't seem to want to leave. “Nice room,” he said quietly.

“Uh, I didn't get a chance to change the sheets in the other room,” I lied. “This is a pretty big bed, so if you want to sack out here with me for an hour that's cool.” The sheets were new and clean, but I was upset that he seemed so nervous, so I was hoping that might make him more relaxed. It had never occurred to me that being up 20 floors would freak someone out.

“That's OK, I don't want to be a problem,” he said. Those were hollow words. I could tell from his voice that he wanted to stay, but he was too shy to say so.

“What, you still afraid I'm going to rape you?” I joked, standing in front of him in a pretend menacing stance, which must have looked pretty funny since he was almost a foot taller than me. He picked me up and tossed me on the bed. I took time to marvel at how gentle he was even then. He'd managed to do that without making me land on my broken arm.

“Nope,” he said simply. I just laughed.

“OK Superman, you take that side, I get this side.” I took the side by the window. I lay down and turned my back to him, and he did likewise. I liked having him here. His strong presence and his warmth were very comforting. I stared out the window at the skyline, and my mind started racing, reminding me about the last time I was here, and making me think about Stefan.

I felt myself getting angry at him all over again. Tonto had completely blamed me for “assaulting” him. His English was good enough that he could have stood up for me at least about that. He could have helped me out when she confronted me, but he did nothing. Worse, by doing nothing he made it look like I had initiated something incredibly unpleasant to him. The little bastard had totally finked me out. He must have sold me down the river with her to preserve his own worthless ass. I was so pissed off at him I almost punched the bed, but then I remembered that Jeff was lying behind me. I knew that beneath my anger was pain, sadness, and disappointment, but I held on to the anger because it was easier to deal with.

I refocused on the skyline and chided myself for worrying about Stefan and Tonto, for even giving a shit about that whole situation. I’d been dying to escape here to my new home, and dying to put all of the crap Claremont had heaped on me behind me. I’d made my exit, I’d gotten here, and the first thing I did was torture myself by thinking about it and letting myself get mad all over again.

I heard Jeff gently snoring behind me and smiled. I was going to have to figure out a way to make him comfortable 20 floors up. I guess now would be a good time for me to buy curtains. I was starting to mentally decorate my apartment, thinking that I could use my time over the next month before school started to accomplish that project, when the bed shook. Jeff must be moving. The next thing I knew, he rolled over and snuggled up right behind me, wrapping his arm around my stomach and resting his hand on my chest.

At first I was shocked: it’s not every day the hottest football player at the local high school decides to spoon with you. I let that pass, and I found that I felt incredibly safe and secure. Here was this big lug of a guy totally protecting me. I smiled and nestled back into him. Before I dosed off I contemplated that I should be excited, hard as a rock, but I wasn't. There wasn't anything sexual about the way he was holding me. It was just friendship, and, probably now more than at any other time in my life, I really appreciated it.

When I woke up, I knew right away that I’d slept longer than I’d planned because instead of the sunshine, I saw the bright lights of the city blinking back at me. I also realized that I'd lost my security blanket: Jeff wasn't in bed. I got up and looked around the room, but he wasn't there. I wandered out to the living room and found him standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out at the lake.

Chicago Skyline 1962

“Hey,” I said drowsily. “Enjoying the view?” He kind of jumped a bit. I put my arm over his shoulder and he put his around my waist, a nice gesture of friendship. I tried not to remember that Stefan and I had stood in this exact spot in the exact same pose.

“This is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,” he said wistfully. “Being so high up kind of spazzed me out, but now it's cool.” I was relieved that I didn’t have to try and dream up ways to help him adapt.

“It is amazing isn't it?” I said, following his gaze. “I could stand here and stare at this all night, if I wasn't damn near starving to death.”

He looked down at me and gave me a snaugh. “I could eat.”

There was a small pizza place close to the condo so we walked there. At 6’5” and bulging with muscles, Jeff is a big boy, and he had the appetite to go with it. We ordered two pizzas, and he ate all of one and some of the other. He was pretty quiet during dinner, and I realized that was because he was too busy shoveling food into his mouth to talk. I filled the void in conversation.

“I thought that later on we could unload the car. I don't know about you, but I'm still kind of wiped out so I figured we could make it an early night.” He nodded in between gulps. “Then tomorrow, I thought we could go do some shopping. I need to get some stuff for the condo, furniture and shit like that.”

“That works,” he managed to say between bites.

“On Sunday, I figured we could explore the city. That sound good to you?” He nodded. “When do you have to be back?”

He stopped chewing and thought about that for a minute. “Well, we usually start football practice around the end of July, so I guess I'm really in no hurry.” He seemed suddenly concerned. “I don't want to get in your way though.”

“You're not in my way. I like having you around,” I said pleasantly, getting a grin for my words. “Besides, maybe you can help me get the condo set up. You know how to paint?”

He looked at me like I was a complete idiot. “Yeah, I’ve been painting over the summers for the past three years now. I can even wallpaper.”

“Well then it sounds like you'll be pretty handy to have around.” I smiled at him and he grinned back at me again.

We got back to the condo and I took a shower while Jeff unloaded the car. I was going to help him, but he wouldn't hear of it, so I decided to wash the grime of Claremont off my body. I looked at down at the plastic bag I'd had to tie around my arm and got pissed all over again. What a pain in the ass! But as the shower flowed I relaxed and I couldn't help thinking about my tall, strong friend. He really was like a big teddy bear. Then I started thinking about his big muscles, violet blue eyes, and his strong chest, and I thought about the way he held me in bed. Suddenly, what seemed purely platonic in real life, now seemed very sexual in my fantasies. I looked down at my raging hard cock. Some soap and my right hand soon calmed that problem down again.

I was walking out of the shower, still flushed from jacking off, when I came face to face with Jeff. My dick was plump but not hard, thank God, but I was intensely embarrassed at standing there completely naked in front of him. He eyed me up and down (what was that all about?) then sensed my discomfort. “Don't worry man. I spend half my life in a locker room. You don't have anything I haven't seen before.”

I tried to wrap a towel around my waist but it was really hard with just one good arm, and I ended up just fumbling around with it like an idiot. Jeff reached over and did it for me; the feel of his fingers brushing against my hip threatened to tent the towel. “Thanks,” I said shyly, then got my game back. “So you're telling me that I'm nothing special, not exceptional?” I was almost flirting, but feigned anger to make it jovial humor.

He stared hard at my body now. “Yep, that's what I'm saying.” We both laughed. “I piled a bunch of those boxes in the guest room so the bathroom is kind of hard to get to. Mind if I use your shower?”

“No,” I shrugged, “go right ahead. Here, let me get you a towel.” I went out to the bedroom, digging through boxes to find linens. Damn this was hard with just one arm. I desperately needed to unpack and get organized. I walked back into the bedroom to find our roles reversed. There he was, standing in front of me, stark naked.

My initial impression was that he was beautiful, but I decided that was the wrong word, and that he was more aptly described as being magnificent. His chest and arms bulged with muscles, his stomach was smooth as silk, and a thin layer of fat prevented his six-pack from bulging out. His cock was decently sized even when it was limp, and it dangled there proudly over two huge balls. This torso was mounted on two legs that were so large they could be tree trunks. The layer of fat I’d noted on his stomach actually seemed to permeate his whole body, making his skin seem smooth, his features rounder, and his body to be beefy.

I’d given into the temptation and stared at his body, and I’d been so overwhelmed I’d done it in a very obvious way. If I hadn’t figured that out, his smirk would have told me quite clearly that I’d been busted. I frantically searched my mind for locker room banter, wondering what the other jocks would say, so I could come up with some witticism to save myself from this intensely embarrassing situation. “Damn, do you work out all the time? You got bigger muscles than Jack LaLanne.” I tried to sound like a fellow jock commenting on this physique, and I must have gotten it right, since he smiled and did a body builder pose. The veins on his biceps stuck out prominently, and it made him look so sexy, I was worried that my towel would start to tent. “Now that is exceptional,” I said, and then threw his towel in his face. He laughed and hopped in the shower.

He took much shorter showers than I did. He came ambling into the bedroom wearing just his boxers and I was glad that I'd put mine on. I would have looked like a raging queer if I'd gotten in bed naked with my ass in the air, just like Stefan had done to me. That thought made me uneasy, because even though I was pissed at Stefan, I missed him, or at least my hormones did.

Jeff kind of stared at me, hesitating. I'd just assumed he'd sleep in here again, although there was absolutely no basis me to reach that conclusion. “Since the guest room is packed with boxes and the sheets are still dirty, you mind bunking up in here tonight?” I saw the relief on his face.

“Nope,” he said, and climbed in on his side of the bed. Like this afternoon, he lay on his side facing away while I did the same. And like this afternoon, in a few minutes I felt him roll over and wrap his arm around me, spooning up against me. Only this time, I hadn't heard snoring first. I nestled back into him, reveling in his warmth and the security he emanated, but this time it was sexual. This time, the feeling of his smooth skin and massive muscles against my naked back had brought my cock to full attention. I controlled myself, working the sexual feelings out of my mind, and just enjoyed my big teddy bear.

 

July 7, 1962

Chicago, IL

        

I woke up first to find Jeff spooning up behind me much as he’d been when we fell asleep. The only thing different was that sometime during the night, I had wrapped my arms around his hand that was on my chest. There was something very hard poking me in the ass and I laughed to myself, thinking that if I didn’t have these boxers on, I’d probably have a dick up my ass. I was thinking about extracting myself from the embrace so as not to embarrass him, but he woke up before I could do that. I felt his body suddenly stiffen, and he hurriedly tried to pull away from me. That might have worked, but my arms were gripping his hand, so all he did was pull me over on top of him. In that position, his rock hard cock was driving into my ass cheeks. If only I hadn't worn underwear, I joked to myself.

“Oh man, I am so sorry,” he said with panic in his voice. He pushed me off the top of him, only that propelled me onto my broken arm.

“Fuck!” I cried out in pain.

He went from panic to concern. “Oh shit, now I hurt your arm. Are you OK? Let me help you out.”

“I’m fine,” I said in a frosty way because I was in pain, but I recovered from that fast enough. “I don't know what's worse, you throwing me on my arm or stabbing me with that spear of yours.” He could tell I was joking. He sighed in response to my humor, evidently relieved that I wasn’t going to freak out on him.

“Morning wood man.” He got up to go to the bathroom and his boxers were tented way out. I'd guess he was about seven inches long, I thought playfully. He came back a few minutes later, his erection now gone. “I'm sorry about grabbing you like that. I guess I'm used to sleeping with people. I grew up sharing a bed with my brothers and it gets cold in the winter. I'll clear out the guest room so I don't bug you again.” The poor guy was absolutely mortified.

“Actually, I liked it. Not the spearing part,” I joked, trying to ease the tension, “but it's kind of nice to have someone there. It makes me feel warm, safe, and protected. So if it were up to me, I'd have you stay in here. You can do whatever you want.” I watched him roll that around in his mind, but he really didn't say yes or no.

Instead, he just stood there looking at me, thinking about what I said, then changed the subject. “We got a lot of stuff to do today, so I'm gonna get ready. Plus I'm hungry.”

“When are you not hungry?” I asked sarcastically. He just stared at me. I bowed to the inevitable. “Fine, I'm getting up.” No more than 15 minutes later we were walking out the front door. I looked at my watch and it was 9:00am. I needed to teach this boy how to sleep in.

We ordered a big breakfast, and the arrival of the food woke me up, strangely enough. While we were eating, I made a list of all the things I needed to buy. It was a prodigious list. I needed furniture for the living room, dining room, bedroom, den, and guest room. I needed a safe for “the packet” and anything else I might need to keep secure. I needed patio furniture, and maybe even a barbeque grill. And if that weren’t enough, I needed to pick out paint colors and wallpaper, get new towels and sheets for the beds to complement those colors, get a television and a radio. I’d already gotten appliances, but that opened up a whole new project. I’d have to equip the kitchen with some plates, dishes, and silverware for daily, as well as another set for more formal occasions. I’d also have to acquire some pots and pans and the other necessary cooking accouterments. I checked my wallet to make sure the BankAmericard was in there, which reminded me of something else I needed to do. I had to go to the bank and get my own card so my parents didn't end up paying for everything. Jeff looked at my list skeptically. I couldn't tell if he didn't think I could get all that stuff done, or if he just didn't know what most of it was.

We finished our breakfast and went tearing through the city. We took a quick break for lunch, a slightly longer break for dinner, and managed to arrive back at the condo by 9:30pm.

“I think we checked off most of your list, didn’t we?” Jeff asked me, proud of our achievement.

“Yes we did,” I said. “I could not have done it without your help.” I’d gotten everything done except getting my new BankAmericard. “I’m fucking worn out.”

“Me too,” he said, “but we need to bring all that shit up here.” We’d mostly jammed the Corvette full of the softer purchases, like color swatches and clothes. We’d even had bags crammed into the foot wells of the car. It was one time I was glad that the Corvette was an automatic, so I needed less foot room.

“Let’s go,” I said with resignation.

“No, I got it. You can sort things out and I’ll bring them up,” he said, taking charge. I raised my eyebrow to challenge him, but I had no desire to lug things around, especially with my broken arm, so I went with his plan.

We worked our asses off for another hour and a half. “I got all the stuff up here,” Jeff announced after his last trip down to the car. He’d paused between trips to put things together, but he’d worked pretty quickly nonetheless.

“We can handle putting it away later on,” I pronounced, effectively ending our workday. “I’m calling it a night.”

“Sounds good,” he said. I took my shower first so that meant I got in bed first. I lay on my side, just like I had the past two times, which was a pretty clear invitation for him to join me. I waited apprehensively, listening for the water to stop. I heard his footsteps and wondered if they were heading to the guest room or not. He walked around a lot, getting ready for bed, probably just to taunt me. In a few minutes, I finally had my answer when the bed moved sharply as he got in. If I didn't have my back to him, he would have seen my big smile.

This time, he didn't start out on his side facing away from me, he just slid over and wrapped his arm around me, and I relaxed back into him like I'd done last night. A few minutes later I could hear him gently snoring, a beautiful rhythm that sang me to sleep.

Copyright © 2011 Mark Arbour; All Rights Reserved.
  • Like 38
  • Love 8
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. 

Story Discussion Topic

You are not currently following this author. Be sure to follow to keep up to date with new stories they post.

Recommended Comments

Chapter Comments

48 minutes ago, CincyKris said:

I empathize with the above comment, but I can't seem to stop myself.  Some things have improved dramatically in the almost 60 years since this story was set.  The cultural and social standing of LGBT people, the ability of children and spouses of abusers (like Jeff's father) to escape and prosecute stand out.  But, the ability to travel 500 miles and actually get away from problems is regrettably gone.

So very true. 

  • Like 4
View Guidelines

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now


  • Newsletter

    Sign Up and get an occasional Newsletter.  Fill out your profile with favorite genres and say yes to genre news to get the monthly update for your favorite genres.

    Sign Up
×
×
  • Create New...