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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. 

My Jump Off - 2. Chapter 2

One thing I look forward to more than anything on a Sunday morning is my sleep, which was why I was less than pleased when I heard a persistent knock at my door at eight in the morning.

"Who is it," I asked, still have asleep and definitely annoyed.

"Come on buddy, get up," I heard my dad say from the other side of my door. "It's Easter Sunday, and mom wants to go out for breakfast."

Okay, this was not what I was planning on last night when I stayed up late in Phillip's back yard hitting the bong and sucking the nitric oxide out of the 10 cans of whip cream that we smuggled through his house and past his folks. I managed to stagger in at about 1 in the morning, and to put it bluntly, I was fucked up.

Luckily, my parents were in bed and didn't notice that I was out past my curfew. Even if they had, I wouldn't have gotten in much trouble at all. If anything, my dad might have sighed at me or my mom would have lectured me. But for the most part, I was in the clear as long as I made it home in one piece and stayed out of trouble.

"Do I have to go," I asked as I tried to bury my head in my pillow for more sleep. When I heard my door open, I already knew I was going with them.

"Is it going to kill you to spend some quality time with your parents," my dad asked.

"I'll get up," I said as I pushed back the covers.

"Great," my dad said happily. "Try to hurry, son. You know how crowded it get's on Easter."

My parents had an obsession with eating out on just about every holiday. I never really figured out what the big deal was to them about going to a restaurant. I was just as content with a bowl of Captain Crunch and some toast. But, on holidays like Easter, Mothers Day, Fathers Day and even the Fourth of July, we ate out for breakfast.

Sometimes I think my parents symbolize things too much. As an their only child, I've had the pleasure of being the center of almost every important date on the calender. Last year, for an Easter present, my parents got me an I-pod. During the holidays, they still pretend that Santa brings most of my gifts, and even though they have to know by now that I don't believe in Santa anymore, I think they've chosen to think that I still do.

My parent's, Jeff and Sandy Fedina, tried for years to have another baby, but when I was about 12, they gave up and decided that it wasn't meant to be. Personally, I would have loved to have a little brother or sister. I think my parents actually deserved to have another son, especially since I most likely wouldn't be giving them any grandchildren. It made me feel a little sad one day when Andrew and I were talking about it because I realized that the Fedina name would probably die with me.

When I got back to my room after my shower I smiled when I found a plastic Easter egg sitting on my dresser. I opened it and inside were about 10 jelly beans and a 20 dollar bill. I quickly got dressed and for the living room. On the way, I found three more plastic eggs, but I waited to open them until I was with my parents.

"Did the Easter Bunny leave something for you last night," my mom asked with a grin.

"Mom," I said, feeling a little silly as I popped the other three eggs open. It was more jelly beans and more money.

"What do got there, son," my dad asked, as if he didn't know. I smiled as he acted surprised when I showed him the contents of the eggs.

"Happy Easter," I said as I gave them both hugs.

"Happy Easter Jarred," my mom said.

Golden Corral isn't the best place in the world to eat, but even when it's crowded, you get to eat right away because it's an all you can eat buffet. I used to barely be able to choke down a full plate of food, but lately, I've been going back up for seconds and even thirds. There's something about the sausage links at Golden Corral that I love. I can place it, but I think they're flavored with maple syrup. Either way, they're delicious and I can never eat too many. Or so I thought.

"Honey, of course you have a tummy ache," my mom said on the way home. I was stretched out in the back seat with my hands over my stomach and my window down for fresh air as my dad drove home. "You must have had 20 of those sausage links."

Looking back, I guess she was right. I probably had a grease overload and to top it off, I drank about 7 glasses of orange juice. My stomach felt like it was going to burst from the pressure, and I had a feeling that I either needed to throw up or belch, but I was too miserable to try either.

"Do you need daddy to pull over," my mom asked in a concerned voice.

"I'll be okay," I moaned as I laid still, trying to feel the cool air flow over my face and take away the intense hot flashes I was getting. Just as my dad pulled into our driveway, my mouth started to water and I knew I was in trouble. I reached up and opened the door just in time to roll out of the car and puke everything up.

For the rest of the morning I was miserable. I laid down on the couch and let my mom put a wet wash cloth on my forehead while I watched TV. I was so put out by getting sick on the lawn that I hadn't given any thought to Phillip or Andrew. Unfortunately, at about noon, I was reminded in a very rude way.

"Jarred, honey," my mom said as she stood over me. "Do you feel like taking a phone call?"

"Sure," I said as I took the phone. I already knew it was Phillip, but I didn't expect him to go off on me.

"Thanks for calling me and wishing me a happy Easter," he said rather nastily.

"Wait, what?," I said, instantly irritated.

"You heard me, Jarred," he snapped back at me. "You're so fucking inconsiderate.

"You know what," I started, jumping to my feet and making a bee line for the hallway to my room, where I promptly shut the door and continued. "Fuck you. Don't fucking call here and start your shit. I'm having a nice day with my parents and you're not going to ruin it by calling here and being a dick."

"I'm sorry," he said in a suddenly remorseful tone. "I just got worried when I didn't hear from you."

If there was one thing I could do well, it was that I could control my boyfriend. Sure, he snapped at me from time to time, but anytime I wanted to, I could make him back off just by changing my tone and being forceful. One time, while we were having an argument, he didn't back down the way I wanted him to, so I reached out and slapped his face. It wasn't hard, but it was enough to make him sit quietly in a stunned state while I told him why he earned it. It was the only time I ever felt like I had to do it, but I knew that in the future, if I ever had to, I could simply give him another slap across the face and he'd shut up.

"Okay, now that you're talking normally, tell me what's wrong," I said.

"I'm fighting with my dad again," he said sadly. "He's still pissed off at me for quitting the baseball team."

"He's fighting with you about it on Easter," I asked, feeling almost sick to my stomach again, but this time for a different reason. Phillip's dad is what most people would call a sports fanatic, and he want's Phillip to play in every sport there is. Soccer, football, baseball and even tennis. He wanted him to wrestle when we were freshmen, and he got mad when Phillip didn't make the cut this year for the football team.

When Jarred tried out for baseball, he made the team but Mr. Cassiante ruined it for him by pushing him too hard. Eventually Phillip quit, and his dad was furious. Sometimes I wondered to myself whether or not Mr. Cassiante beat his whole family. Even his wife was nervous about upsetting him. He was really overbearing, and I for one didn't care much for him.

"Do you want to come over, babe," I asked, feeling a little guilty for going off on him like I had.

"I better not," he said, sounding upset. "I just wanted to hear from you today. You're voice is soothing to me and he has me so mad right now."

"Maybe we can see each other today," I said, realizing that what he probably needed was to get out of his house.

"I don't think so," Phillip said, sounding defeated. "It's Easter, and my mom's making a big deal about us being home for the day as a family."

"I'm sorry I yelled at you sweety," I said softly, hoping to brighten his day just a little.

"No, it was my fault," he answered. "I shouldn't have called here like a psycho whore."

"You're not a psycho," I said affectionately, chuckling about his description. "And you may be a whore, but you're my whore."

"I love you Jarred," he said in a much happier tone.

"I love you too," I said. "Hey, even if we don't get together today, I promise I'll make it up to you tomorrow. Deal?"

"I'll hold you to that," he said teasingly.

"Do you promise," I asked.

"Cross my heart," he said.

We talked for the next thirty minutes about nothing in particular. We were both horny, so we mainly talked dirty to each other and told each other in graphic detail what we were going to do to each other after school on Monday.

Phillip's a good fuck. I know that's being kind of crude, but it's also the truth. We were each other's first's, and we'd learned a lot since September. The first time we went all the way, I thought I was in love with him.

We were alone at my house and it was a minimum day. We were making out on my bed and before long, we had all of our clothes off. At first, we were laying side by side and giving each other hand job's while we kissed, but eventually, we changed positions moved on to giving each other blow jobs. We were in a sixty-nine position and things were getting kind of heavy. I had already brought his legs up behind my arms and had slid a finger into his bottom when I heard him moan.

Of course, I was rock hard and I knew he wanted more, so I slipped a second finger into him and he moaned again. So I went for a third finger, and it drove him nuts. That's when I decided to go for it.

I spun myself around and put myself between his legs, which were wide open. He smiled cutely up at me as I positioned my hard on at the entrance of his ass. Then I slid back in with my fingers, and watched as his eyes glazed over. I finger fucked him for about 3 more minutes, and when my hand felt like it was going to cramp, I pulled them out and tried to push in. Of course, with his legs down, it was no use, so I had to have him lift his legs up over my shoulders. Then I pushed in.

I went slow for two reasons. First, I was scared. I wasn't sure if I was going to hurt myself by going up someone else's butt with my dick. The second reason was that I didn't want to hurt him. I tried to imagine what it would be like if someone was trying to push their hard on up inside of my butt, and I realized that it might not be the most comfortable feeling in the world. So instead of rushing, I pushed in a little bit at a time and in a couple of minutes, I was all the way inside of my boyfriend.

We both stayed quiet as we shared this special moment with each other. I sighed contentedly as he looked up at me and smiled, but neither of us said a word. I moved slowly at first, wanting to make sure he wasn't feeling any pain, but as I saw the look on his face get more intense, I realized that he wanted me to do it harder.

I think the thing that made our first ever time special was that fact that we came at the same time. The loving look on his face and the glowing feeling I had from the load I had shot had my head spinning. That was the first time I ever told him that I loved him, and I meant it at that moment. We kissed for another 10 minutes, and before we knew it, we were at it again.

After we got off the phone, I went back out to the living room where I spent the rest of my day. My mom cooked a ham and a few pies for dinner, and we ate it a little early. After dinner, my dad went out to the garage for a moment but returned almost immediately. When he did, he had a large present in his hands.

"Look's like the Easter Bunny left something else for you," he said as he handed me the present. I smiled at him as I took it from him and gave it a shake.

"Go ahead and open it, sweetie," my mom said. I peeled the wrapping off as I was instructed and when I finally got to the box, my eyes got big. It was a helmet. I looked up at my parents, who simply smiled back and nodded.

I followed my dad to the garage and when we got there, I almost cried. There sat the dirt bike I always wanted. A Kawasaki KX 450 F with a power band. I'd been begging for one since Christmas, but I never actually thought I'd see it in my garage. I looked at my parents, still not believing it was true.

"Don't go breaking your neck on this thing, son," my dad said .

"I won't, I promise, " I said, shaking my head as I stood there dumb founded. "Can I ride it today?"

"Of course you can," my dad answered. "Put your helmet on and stay in the middle of the road."

I quickly put my helmet on, and my dad checked it out to make sure it was on good. When I actually climbed onto the bike, my heart was racing. I felt so nervous and so excited at the same time that I almost forgot how to start it.

My dad opened the garage door and once I had it running, I rode out to the street, stopping one last time before actually taking off down the road. My mom and dad were holding hands as they walked down the driveway to watch me ride my new dirt bike.

I took it to the end of the cull-de-sac and turned around and moved down the road, careful to keep it at 25. My dad walked out to the road and waived me down, so I stopped to see what he was trying to tell me.

"I want to see what the power band on this baby can do," he said with a grin, so I went back down to the end of the cull-de-sac and took off again. This time I got up to about 50 when I popped the clutch and in forth gear, my front tire came off the ground. I quickly slowed down when I spotted my mom with her hand over her mouth and a panicked look on her face. When I pulled back into the driveway, she looked distressed.

"Do you want to ride it, dad," I asked as I pulled my helmet off.

I wasn't too sure what my dad would be able to do on a motorcycle. I'd never actually seen him on one before, so when he took my helmet and put it on, I was a little unsure about what I was going to witness. As he rode off, I was shocked to see him pop a wheelie and ride it out. He pulled back up and took the helmet off, but instead of handing it to me, he handed it to my mom.

"Come on, Sandy,' he said with a smile. "I want to take you for a ride."

Seeing my parents ride off on a motorcycle was the last thing I was expecting to see when I woke up this morning. It just didn't seem like their style. Yet, there they were, riding off on my new bike, rounding the corner and actually heading onto another street. I could still hear the engine roaring as my dad shifted gears, but it was getting more and more distant. All of the sudden, it got louder again and soon, they were back. When they pulled into the driveway, my mom looked like she was having a good time. My dad handed me my helmet and I got back on the bike when they got off. As I was riding past the driveway, I saw them kissing and it looked so sweet. My mom had a dreamy look in her eyes as she gazed up at my dad, who had his arms wrapped around her.

The next day, I was on cloud nine at school as I talked about my new bike to everyone at school. On the way home, I promised Phillip a ride on it as soon as my parents let me take it out again. Of course, I wanted to take it out before they got home, but I knew better than that. If I was caught, my parents would be so disappointed in me that even if I didn't end up grounded, I wouldn't be able to live it down. Besides, there was something else I wanted to ride at the moment.

It wasn't unusual for my dad to get off of work at different times of the day. In fact, there were days when he was home from work by the time I got off the bus. Other days, he would work well into the night. His hours just seemed to depend on how busy he was at work. One thing he always did, though, was call and ask if me or my mom wanted anything from the store on his way home. It was like clock work with him. Something I could count on. I always knew where my dad was.

So as I was getting busy with my boyfriend, telling him I loved him as I moved slowly, back and forth, in and out of him, I couldn't help but panic when I suddenly realized he had stuck his head into my open bedroom door to see what was going on.

Copyright © 2011 NickolasJames8; 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.
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. 
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