My Jump Off - 6. Chapter 6

When I was little, it didn't take much to keep me amused. I was fascinated by the smallest nuances of life. Our Schwan driver, Al, used to let me climb on his truck while he found whatever it was my parent's had ordered from him. Sometimes there would be ice on the box as he pulled it out of the freezer, and he would flick it playfully at me. Other times, he would let me carry some of the stuff back to the house. As my mom was handing him the check, he would always offer to put the stuff in the freezer for us, and right before he left, he would put a bright orange sticker on the back of my hand. I knew that I was supposed to stick it to the refrigerator because he always wrote the date he was planning to come back on that sticker.

To my parent's, this was just another routine, but to me, Al had the coolest job in the world. He always seemed to have a smile, and it seemed like he could remember exactly what we had ordered the last time. I think I was six when I decided that I wanted to be a Schwan man when I grew up.

At some point, Al stopped coming. I'm not sure why, but I remember seeing the truck across the street and asking my parent's if they were going to get me a box of ice cream sandwiches, and they told me that we would get it from the store. I walked outside and stood in the driveway, figuring I could at least say hello to Al, but someone different had walked out. I crossed the road and asked the man politely where Al was, and, in a very grouchy tone, he snapped at me to stay away from his truck.

That might have been the first time that someone had hurt my feelings. Maybe it wasn't the first time, but it was definitely the time that stood out in my mind as the earliest memory I had of my feelings being hurt by anyone. Since that day, I hadn't been able to deal with rejection very well. My parent's were pretty understanding of that, and seemed to go out of their way to make sure I felt loved and happy all the time. Sometimes, as a little boy, I would feel the pain of rejection even before I knew whether or not I was going to be rejected.

I was at a birthday party once for a class mate, Justin Powell, and everyone was drinking soda's and eating cake. I had a piece of cake, but no soda. One of my friends told me where to find the ice chest with the soda's, but as I approached it, I saw Justin's dad standing next to the ice chest and I got nervous that he was going to tell me I couldn't have a soda. So, instead of walking up and asking, I simply slipped out the front door and walked home. By the time I made it inside, I was in tears and my parent's were wondering what happened. I tried to explain what had me so upset, but when I actually verbalized it, I realized how silly it sounded. Of course, this only made me feel worse, and I cried again, this time out of self pity.

But as the years have passed, I'd been slowly but surely able to overcome the fear of rejection that I suffered from my whole life. That was, until Andrew brought them all back for me.

I understand that he didn't intentionally try to hurt me, and he might not have been outright rejecting me, but my feelings were definitely hurt. But pride in myself wouldn't let him see that. When he called, I told him I'd be by. I honestly don't know why I said that, because I knew that there was no way I was going to be able to see him.

For one, it was Sunday, and my parents were going to want to know where I was heading. As it was, I had already left without their permission to have breakfast with Phillip. Phillip, my second reason for not going to see Andrew. Phillip, the one I loved. Phillip, the one I was ready to be faithful to. Phillip, the one who loved me.

So, as I laid on my bed and wondered when the hell Phillip was going to call me, I started to sob again. As luck would have it, my dad heard me through my door as he was walking down the hallway and knocked.

"Jarred, buddy, are you okay," he asked through the door. Great, just what I needed.

"I'm fine dad," I managed to say through my tears, but he wasn't convinced. I rolled back over on my side to face my wall as my dad slowly opened my bedroom door.

When I felt my bed dip, I honestly tried my hardest to get my crying under control, but for some reason I was having no luck. I felt him lay down next to me and place a hand on my shoulder.

"Jarred, what's wrong?" he asked softly. I didn't answer. Instead, I tried to will myself to stop sobbing, but I couldn't.

"Hey, buddy," I head him say as he ran his fingers through my hair and rolled my whole body over so I was facing him. I knew this ritual well. When I was younger and upset about something, I would face my wall and cry in bed, and my dad would lay next to me and run his fingers through my hair to soothe me, then he would roll me over so that I was facing him.

"What's going on?" he asked in a quiet tone as he wrapped me in his arm and used his free hand to stroke my hair.

"I want Phillip to call me," I sobbed, feeling silly for crying like a baby.

"Well, I'm sure he will," my dad said in a comforting voice, as if it were something I shouldn't fret over. "Why don't you call him instead?"

"It's too early," I said dejectedly as my dad's hand came up to my face and wiped away a tear. "Where's mom?"

As gentle and caring as my dad was, it was my mom who could always make me feel better. She didn't have to try. When I was upset, she could just hold my hand and I would feel relieved. It was as if we had a connection that was deeper than words. Almost as if her presence touched off a sense of mine and I could find comfort in her mere touch.

"She's still asleep, bud," my dad answered. "Do you want me to wake her up for you?"

"No," I sobbed. "Dad, can you just stay here with me for a little while?"

"Sure," he said as he ran his hand up and down my back. "Is there something going on between you two that you're not telling me?"

"Well," I started. "We had breakfast together this morning at IHOP, and I miss him now."

"You did?" he asked, sounding surprised. Of course, I realized that I had just busted myself to him, but I had done worse than sneaking out of the house at 6:30 in the morning for breakfast.

"I'm sorry, dad," I said as my tears started to subside.

"Don't worry about it, son," he said as he gently leaned down and kissed the top of my head. "I know you didn't get to see him yesterday."

"Do you think I'm being silly?" I asked, almost afraid of his answer.

"Actually, I think you're being a teenager with a crush," he said with a small smile, making me smile back. "Son, when I was your age, I had it bad for a girl I was seeing. When she broke up with me, I came straight home and balled my eye's out. You're grandma thought I was on drugs."

I had to chuckle when he said that, because I couldn't imagine my dad ever doing any type of drug, or even drinking. I had never seen him take so much as a sip of a beer, so the thought that he could have ever tried drugs was preposterous to me. The image was funny, though.

My dad and I laid together for a little while longer, but as soon as I started to feel better, we both got up and cooked my mom some breakfast. We finished it before she got up, so dad took out a tray and we carried it up to their room. The look on her face when we woke her up with food was priceless. She sat up in her bed and let us cater to her, but it was obvious that we had made way too much food. She made up for this by making us both take bites that she offered to us until it was all gone, and I was stuffed to maximum capacity with pancakes.

Sometimes when I eat too much breakfast, I get sick. Other times, I start to feel sluggish and lazy. Then there were the times when I felt like going back to sleep. I'm not sure when it happened, but I know that at some point, I fell asleep while we were watching TV on my parent's bed.

I felt a little modest when I woke up and saw my mom and dad sleeping next to me, but at the same time, I felt a little nostalgic. There was a time when I would come to my parent's room in the middle of the night and crawl in bed with them. As I got older, I learned to stay in my own bed and eventually, I never gave it a thought.

My mom was holding my hand as she slept, and the memories it brought back for me were great. So, instead of getting myself up and out of their bed, I just closed my eyes and pretended I was that little kid. It didn't take long for me to fall fast asleep again.

The next day when Phillip and I got off the bus, we made a bee line to my house. Of course, I was planning to have sex with him, but I was looking forward to simply being with him. If he would've told me right them and there that he didn't want to have sex that day, I would have been fine. I just wanted to hold his hand and feel his arms around me.

But I knew Phillip wasn't going to pass up sex with me. To be honest, I wouldn't pass up sex with him either. Not if I could help it.

As I was unlocking the door, I felt his hand grab my ass and as I turned to react, he gave it a hard squeeze and said, "Open the motherfucker so we can do this."

There was no doubt in my mind that he was horny. The sex we had the day before in the woods behind our neighborhood was awesome, and I for one wasn't ready to stop. But, since we were in a wooded area that joggers made their way through on an almost constant basis, we had to make it a quickie.

Not today, though. Before I left for school my mom told me that she was working late, and my dad almost never got off of work early on a Monday. I knew the coast was clear, and I knew I had to make this count. I wasn't sure when we'd have this chance again.

Almost before I got the front door closed, Phillip was all over me. He had shoved his tongue in my mouth and was starting to unbutton my pants in the front hallway. Somehow I was able to lead him down the hall to my room where I managed to shut the door again and from there the rest was a blur.

Somewhere between the kiss in the hallway and laying down on my bed, Phillip had managed to get my jeans to fall down to my ankles and he was already attacking my dick with his mouth. In the middle of our kiss in the hallway, my dick had hardened to the point of sheer torture, and the only way I was going to recover was if I shot an enormous load.

At the rate that Phillip was running his tongue over the head of my cock, my recovery would be complete in no time. I slowly gave his shoulder a soft tap to let him know I wanted him to come up for a kiss. When he was at eye level with me again, I realized that at some unknown point, he had removed his pants. It must have been while he was blowing me, because I could have sworn they were up when he was attacking me earlier.

Either way, they were down and I had idea's of my own.

I slid my hands down to his ass, grabbing each one of his cheeks and pulling them apart as we kissed. I heard him whimper softly as I started to knead his cheeks with my finger tips, so I added more force to the motion of my fingers. As we rolled over, he lifted his legs and I knew he was ready for me to enter him. I allowed his legs to find the top of each one of my shoulders, then I pulled my lips away from his momentarily.

My eyes started their journey to his beautiful hard on, and my tongue couldn't be restrained. I lapped at it's full length, starting at the base of his swollen balls and working my way up to the tip of his head. As I got to the head of his cock, I swirled my tongue all around it, then I worked it back down to his nut sack, where I took the time to suck each one slowly and sensually.

From where I was now positioned, I could see his hot, pink, waiting ass hole, and it seemed to be begging me for attention. I slid my finger inside of it and I felt him flex around it as my mouth continued it's task on his nut sack. When I pulled my finger out, I allowed my tongue to continue it's journey downward, as I traced the long, narrow bridge between his balls and his hole. Once there, I took short, firm jabs at his hot hole, causing his whole body to tense up. I continued my assault on his hole until I could hear him begging me to stop and enter him with my cock.

When I repositioned myself between his legs, I lined my cock up to his entry and gave a gentle push. As his hot tunnel enveloped my hardness, the feelings of love that I had felt for him began to flood my mind and I gave in to my emotions. I leaned down as he raised his head and met me with a long kiss as I began to move inside of him, taking long, slow strokes that made my body shiver with pleasure. As I looked deep into his beautiful brown eyes that were filled with love and devotion, I felt a tear trickle down my cheek. I loved him so much, and the fact that I was able to please him by being inside of his body was nothing compared to the thought that he was willing to let me please him by allowing me to be inside of him, giving me his most precious gift and returning the pleasure that I was giving him.

He reached up and used his thumb to gently wipe away the tear that had fallen, then he took it to his mouth and, breaking our kiss momentarily, he licked it away. When our lips met again, I felt like we were sharing something more intimate than we had ever shared. He had consumed the very depths of my love and devotion to him, and now we were sharing it all over again as we took the level of our love making to new heights. All at once, the feeling of being one with him swept me away, and as my I felt my orgasm building , I felt the warm tightness of him body start to escalate, gripping the head of my cock over and over again until my whole body was overcome by the intensity of our love making and I began to fill him with my cum, which was shooting out with an alarming force.

At the same time, his own hard on began to spurt long ropes of sperm all over his stomach and chest. I hadn't made the slightest contact with his cock as we made love in my bed, but the load he shot was incredible. While I was still inside of him, we both used our fingers to scoop up large gobs of his seed and as if we were reading each others minds, we fed each other. Phillip's warm sperm was like honey on my tongue, and as he offered me his mouth for another kiss, we shared his the taste of his sweet offering, deepening the bond of love we were sharing as our tongues danced.

I realized that I was still hard as I rested inside of him, and that he was slowly grinding his ass into my cock. His own hard on had deflated, but he seemed to still be taking pleasure in the feeling of my hardness inside of him, so I acquiesced. I began to take long strokes again, and as his eyes glazed over, I realized that he was on the verge of a second orgasm. I looked down at his cock, which had regained it's hardness and watched as it twitched back and forth.

Our kissing intensified for a moment as I moved faster inside of him, and soon, I felt the familiar heat of another orgasm building inside of me. I moved my hand to his hard cock, which was now dancing to the rhythm of my long, fast strokes and wrapped my fist around it. I saw Phillips glazed over eyes roll back into his head for a moment as he spent himself again. Just as his load was spilling over my hand, I felt my own cock flood his ass once more with my own load.

When I pulled out of him, we snuggled up to each other and lay still. Holding him in my arms was almost therapeutic, as I could feel the waves of his love and devotion to me that were emitted from his very being. I felt like I didn't have a worry in the world at this point because as I lay in my bed naked with my boyfriend, my lover, my soul mate, I felt complete.

As good as it felt to lay in bed and enjoy the glow of the love we had just shared, I knew that we had to get up and get dressed. My parent's would be returning at some point, and we had lost track of time while we were in the throws of our passionate love making. I looked at my alarm clock and realized that it was almost 4:30, so, with one last, long kiss, we broke our embrace and got up.

While we were working on our homework, Phillip called home and told his dad that he was helping me work on my dad's riding lawn mower. I heard him assure Mr Cassiante that our homework was already finished and that he would be home by seven. Telling his dad that he was working on an engine must have been the right thing to say, because before he hung up, I heard him say, "I love you too dad."

The entire time I'd known Phillip, I had never heard him exchange `I love you's' with his dad. Heck, I hardly heard him say it to his mom. Something told me that Mr. Cassiante was coming around, but I didn't press him on the subject.

As the weekend approached, Phillip happily told me that there was no out of town excursion that would keep us separated on Saturday. We made plans to take my dirt bike out to Pungo, and after that, we were going down to the beach, where we would meet up with some friends from school and just kick it.

When Saturday morning arrived, I called Phillip at around eight to make sure he was up, then I hopped in the shower. As I was drying off in the bathroom, I thought I could hear my cell phone ringing. I ran with the towel around my waist to see who it was, hoping that it wasn't Andrew calling to try to make plans with me. Much to my relief, it was Phillip again. While we were on the phone, I made up a story about how my battery was low and I was going to turn my phone off and put it on the charger. The last thing I wanted was to hear from Andrew.

The track at Pungo was crowded, but we had a really good time. My dad seemed to want to ride my bike more this time than he had the last time, but I didn't mind. I was beginning to realize that I like seeing him have fun, and that maybe hanging out with him wasn't so bad every once in a while.

Phillip did pretty good, but there was no way he was going to be able to take the high jumps I was taking. I knew that, but I still watched with a smile as he learned how to pop a wheelie and got really amped up as he got better and better through out the day.

When it was time to leave, we dropped him back off at his house so he could change for the beach. When I was alone in my room, I turned my phone on and saw that Andrew had called 6 times. The first three messages were just him telling me that he was home alone and he was wondering what I was up to, and asking me to call him back. The forth one was fairly normal, but I could tell that he was starting to worry that I was blowing him off by the tone of his voice.

The fifth message was about 3 minutes long, and it was nothing but silence. I thought to myself that he must not have realized that he hadn't hung the phone up and by coincidence, he got my voice mail. The sixth one told a different story, though.

"Jarred, this is Andrew again," he started, and I thought I heard him crying. "I don't know what I did, dude, but please call me back. I miss you and I need to see you. At least call me and tell me what's wrong."

Okay, now I felt like shit. I was so wrapped up in my own feelings of rejection that I hadn't stopped to think about how Andrew must have felt. I thought he was rejecting me, but looking back, I could see how he might have been acting on his inexperience. After all, it was his first time. I was his first, and not only had I ditched him the next day when I said I would be there, but I had avoided his calls. I was about to call him up when my phone rang again. This time it was Phillip.

"Hey babe," I said as I answered and put the phone to my ear.

"Hey," he said sweetly and shyly. "I just wanted to know what time we were leaving."

"We can go whenever you want to, babe," I said. "I'm sure the guy's are going to be there when we show. If not, we can set up a spot. I just need to take a shower."

"Okay, I love you," he said happily.

"I love you too," I gushed, feeling content to simply hear those words coming from someone who I didn't feel like I deserved to have love me.

As soon as I hung up, I dialed Andrew's number. He picked up right away.

"Hello," he said eagerly.

"Hey dude," I said softly, not sure if he was still feeling emotional or not.

"Jarred," he said as he breathed a sigh of relief.

What came next was an awkward moment of silence as I tried to figure out the best course of action to take.

"How are you doing, dude," I asked, trying to ease my way into this.

"I'm doing okay," he said, sounding a little deflated. "I had a really rough week. I missed you."

"I know how you feel, dude," I said, trying to sound supportive. "To tell you the truth, I felt pretty bad on Sunday when we didn't see each other. But I'm grounded right now from everything. I'm not even supposed to be taking on my cell."

"What happened?" he asked, sounding a little more sympathetic now to my "plight."

"My history teacher sent a letter home saying I haven't been turning in my homework," I lied. "I'm not going to pass her class this year."

"Shit," he said, totally buying the story. Thank God.

"I know dude," I continued, feeling like I had just lifted a hundred pound weight from my shoulders. "I'm so busted it's not even funny."

"Well, what are we going to do?" he asked, and I knew what he was getting at.

"I might be able to get away next weekend," I lied. "If my folks un-ground me. Maybe we can see each other."

Alright, I knew that was the wrong thing to say even before I said it. I didn't want to see Andrew again. In fact, I never wanted to speak to him again. But hearing his last message made my heart melt, and I suddenly realized that he was feeling all of those feelings of rejection I had felt too. Maybe it wasn't fair to just leave him hanging. Maybe I could see him one last time, and after I make it worth the wait for him, I can come clean.

Yeah, that's it. I'll just see him one more time.