Boy Story: The Road Taken - 41. A Shot of Pride

A Shot of Pride

Once the Florida vacation was over and we returned home (my “home” now being with Parker and his mother), I settled into a new routine in the working world. I was working from 7 am to 3 pm mostly outdoors four days a week on the golf course of a country club in all weather. Needless to say, by the time I returned home each day, I was filthy and in need of a shower. As a result, I got into the practice of showering upon returning home. Of course, Parker got into the practice of waiting until I got home and showering with me. This led to the practice of concluding our showers with stiffies followed by the practice of having sex between 4:00 and 5:00. That just goes to show you that practice makes perfect. When I was working, I can’t tell you how many times I’d get hard during the day imagining what was waiting for me back home…or more precisely who was waiting for me back home. The best part is that I wasn’t simply hoping to get sex when I got home. It was the one thing I could count on.

I don’t know who enjoyed those afternoon sessions more. Once I got out of the shower and dried off, I had a bit of stiffness that needed to be dealt with. I would pound Parker until the bed was shuddering and he was squealing “oh yeah, give it to me, harder, harder, oh yeah.” This would only stop when he had erupted and I had fully emptied myself into him. It didn’t matter which position—missionary, doggy style, spooning, boy on top, standing, bent over a desk, or face down on the bed—we would end up in a panting heap knowing we just had the best sex ever. How can every time be the best?

It’s like that high striker game at the carnival where you use a mallet and strike the target to ring the bell. Once you get the hang of it, there’s not any one time that’s better than the others. What matters is that you are good enough to hit the bell. And I had learned how to ring it every time. We have a winner!

When we finished, Parker would make his way over and wrap himself around me…and kiss my chest and my shoulders and my neck and we would just enjoy the moment. Not many guys can say they come home to the wife or girlfriend for mind-blowing sex every day, right? Well, I was the guy who did. Of course, it wasn’t with a wife, girlfriend, or any female for that matter. As I already learned, things were very different with a boy…to my eternal glee.

Since our sessions had become rather vigorous, we eventually needed to stagger the schedule to give Parker a chance to recover. He would often urge me to keep going when we were in the thick of it. But since I had experienced the displeasure of having a bruised asshole, I tried to be resolute for Parker’s sake.

My weekday off was Wednesday, so the routine would change a bit on Wednesdays and weekends. On my days off, we would often have sex more than once a day if we stayed home or just once a day if we had somewhere to go. We even once tried to see how many times we could have sex in a single night, which extended a bit into the next day. From midnight until noon, the answer was seven. We then slept from noon until 4:00 p.m. to make up for the sleep we lost. It was a good thing because my dick was getting sore. I couldn’t imagine how Parker was doing, but he never complained. So perhaps he fared better than I did.

“Hey Matt, are you free on Saturday?” Parker asked.

“Yeah, I don’t work on Saturdays. There are too many golfers on the course. We’d never get anything done,” I informed him.

“Oh good. Do you want to go to Pride with me this Saturday, then?” he inquired.

“Where is it?”

“It’s in Boston.”

“What is it, a restaurant or something?”

“No, it’s Pride. You know, Gay Pride?”

I stared at him blankly.

“Oh c’mon you must have heard of Gay Pride before,” he insisted.

“Isn’t it a slogan that gay people say to one another? Like, hey gay pride!”

“Nooooooo. It’s an event. There’s a parade and then a massive block party at the end where it’s OK for guys to openly be with guys and stuff. And there are speakers and bands and food vendors and…”

“Lots of people?” I added.

“What…you aren’t afraid of a lot of gay people in one place, are you?”

“No, I’m just averse to being in a sea of people in a small area,” I replied.

“Well, we could always just go to the parade and then see how you’re feeling to continue. You can handle a parade, right?”

“As long as it isn’t too crowded,” I stated.

“We’ll just look for a less crowded viewing spot.”

“I don’t know. I guess so,” this was one event for which I had no reference.

“C’mon, I’ll protect you!”

“Ha, ha, I’d like to see that!”

“If you find you are hating it, we can just leave,” he said.

“Alright, I guess that would work.”

“Woo hoo, we’re going to Pride!” Parker cheered.

Saturday came much too quickly to devise a well thought out plan. I finally decided we’d drive close to the action and park in a reasonably-priced garage and walk from there. Parker was in his glory wearing a T-shirt that he bought specifically for the occasion, which read: My boyfriend is straight. Well, at least it didn’t say: I’m with stupid.

Once we were parked, Parker led us to the staging area. We decided to walk the parade route from there hunting for a suitable vantage point. The staging area looked like absolute chaos with motorcycles, marching bands, floats, and other participants all fighting for space to prepare. And it was loud with hundreds of people talking and tuning instruments and revving engines and testing microphones and speakers.

As I was looking around, I noticed a lesbian motorcycle club on bikes with their shirts off and duct tape strips over their nipples. I thought that was hot, which proved there was still some straight boy in me...yet they were lesbians, so does that count?

Then a voice rang out, “Parker!”

Parker swung around and looked, “Connor?”

“Oh my God, Parker, is it really you?” the boy asked.

“Yeah, of course, it’s me,” Parker confirmed and they went to each other and hugged.

A bunch of pleasantries followed that I couldn’t quite follow because of the background noise.

Parker asked him what he was doing there, and Connor told him he was marching with a group supporting gay rights from his high school or something to that effect. And then there was something about a gay/straight alliance group.

Connor was kind of cute and blonder than Parker, while Parker was a couple of inches taller and a tad skinnier. Geez, watching those two gab with one another was a sight to behold. For some reason, two chicken McNuggets came to mind. Perhaps it was the fact that younger gay boys are sometimes referred to as “chicken” by older gay men. And the mutually blond heads of hair somehow reminded me of McNuggets. I giggled to myself. Maybe I was just hungry.

Then they drew closer to me and I could hear again. “This is my boyfriend, Matt.”

“Hi, Matt. I’m Connor. I’m a friend of Parker’s from the gay group that he used to belong to.”

“Hey, I still belong to it…”

“Well, no one has seen you in ages. We thought someone kidnapped you.”

“That would be me,” I joked.

“Hmm, well you can kidnap me anytime,” Connor teased looking me up and down.

“Hey, find your own kidnapper!” Parker quipped. I was feeling kind of pleased at the prospect of two guys fussing over me.

“Geez, where did he get you from? The football team?” Connor needled me.

“No, I’m in college.”

“Yeah, I meant the college football team,” Connor shot back.

“Nah, I’m too scrawny to play football,” I confessed.

“Well, you’re plenty big in other places,” Parker proclaimed.

“Really? I’d love to see that!” Connor joked fanning himself.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Parker teased him.

“So what are you guys up to?” Connor asked changing the subject.

“We’re going to find a decent place to watch the parade,” Parker replied.

“You’re just going to watch? Hmm…Why don’t you march with my group, then? We could always use the extra support,” Connor suggested.

Parker was silent and just looked at me expectantly. “Gee, that would be kinda cool. It’s not against the rules or anything, is it?” I asked.

“No, it’s our group. We can march whoever we want,” Connor replied.

“Hey, that would be cool. What do you think, Matt?” Parker questioned.

“Well, it’ll certainly be less crowded in the parade,” I reasoned.

“Good, we’ll do it!” Parker decided.

“Here…we have T-shirts you need to wear. What size are you guys?”

“I’m probably a small,” Parker said.

“And I’m probably a medium,” I informed him.

Connor went to a cardboard box in the back of a car, rummaged through it a bit, and came up with two T-shirts of the appropriate sizes. “And you can keep the shirts when we’re done,” Connor explained. The shirts were light blue with the name of the high school and Gay/Straight Alliance in white. Parker put his on right over his “boyfriend” T-shirt. I was wearing a short sleeve button-down shirt, so I had to take my shirt off—to which Connor chanted “Take it off! Take it off!”—and I put the T-shirt on and the button shirt over it with the front unbuttoned so you could still read the T-shirt.

“Hey guys, we have two more joining us! This is Parker and Matt, friends of mine,” Connor announced to the group of about a dozen. Everyone smiled, some said “hi” and others waved. Then Connor handed us each a small rainbow stick flag.

“There will be two teams of four holding the banner on the pole up front and we will switch off halfway. You guys just walk behind us with the others and wave the flags and wave to the crowd. Easy enough?” Connor instructed.

Well, that didn’t seem so difficult. Now instead of standing and watching the spectacle go by, we would be inside the spectacle watching the onlookers go by!

The excitement was simply radiating off of Parker. I began to wonder if anyone I knew would be watching from the sidelines…anyone from school, the neighborhood, work? Parker read my mind or maybe it was just my body language.

“Hey, Connor…you have any more of those hats?” Parker asked. There were quite a few of the marchers in our group wearing molded plastic top hats with single-color mirrored pieces all over them. One guy was wearing a green one that reminded me of St. Patrick’s Day. A girl had a purple one and another girl had a red one.

Connor looked in a plastic bag. “We only have one left. You want gold?” he said pulling the hat out of the bag.

“Sure, toss it over,” Parker replied. Connor lobbed it to Parker and Parker passed it to me.

“Just make sure you put on sunscreen before you wear the hat and your sunglasses,” Parker said devising an impromptu disguise for me.

“Thanks, Parker!”

“I told you I’d protect you…and that includes your identity,” he teased with his blue eyes beaming at me. At that moment, I was filled with emotion and I wanted to drag him off and molest him. I kept my mouth shut because I’m sure he would have let me, and there was no privacy anywhere around. A day in jail for lewd and lascivious behavior was not a good idea before the parade had even started, so I just gave him a kiss...in front of everyone. Why not? We were in friendly territory.

In less than 30 minutes, we were marching in our group of 14 people. Parker and I were holding hands as we walked and waved our little stick flags to the spectators. And most of the spectators would clap as we passed. It was quite an experience being able to walk around the city holding hands like any young lovers would. For the next few hours, it was OK to be me…or the new me. There were brief periods when the parade stopped for a few minutes and we had to stand and wait for the column to catch up again. One of the women marching with us—she was there supporting her daughter who was part of the group—asked us how long we’d been together.

My brain went numb. How long had it been?

“About three months,” Parker answered.

“Oh, that’s great,” she replied.

About three months? Wow, had it only been three months? He was right. However, my life had changed so drastically in those three months that it seemed more like three years.

I leaned over and said just loud enough for him to hear, “Parker, I love you.”

He kissed me full and long as we continued to walk. Then I asked, “Aren’t you going to say it back?”

He said, “I just did.” I couldn't argue that.

He unclasped his left hand with mine and shoved it in my left back pocket. I looked at him and he smiled a sly grin back, so I shoved my right hand in his right back pocket. We continued to walk like that. I could feel his firm butt flex and release with each step. I began to give his little bum cake a slight squeeze from inside his back pocket with each step. And he did the same back. It wasn’t something anyone else would have noticed because it was such a discrete move masked by the walking motion, but I could certainly feel it.

Occasionally, the students marching with us would give out a chant in unison: “Take a look and you will see that high school students are queer like me!” Or something to that effect.

And then after about 90 minutes, we reached the end point, and the parade for us was over. I said, “That’s all? Gee, I was just getting warmed up.” Everyone in the group said goodbye to each other; the banner was rolled up with the pole; and Parker, Connor, and I joined the block party already in progress. Parker returned to wearing his “My boyfriend is straight” T-shirt and we waited while Connor was storing the banner in a long canvas bag for next year.

“Hey, Connor! And Parker?” this guy said as he walked by. “Parker, to what do I owe the honor?”

“Hey, Andy! It’s Pride, right? So I’m here!”

“It’s so good to see you guys!” the man said.

“Andy, see my T-shirt?” Parker quizzed him.

“Yes, I like it. It makes people think,” the man responded.

“And it’s true because this is him,” he said waving and presenting me like a game show hostess.

“Matt, this is Andy one of the advisors at the group. Andy, this is Matt, my boyfriend…and so much more!”

“So much more?” Andy asked.

“Yeah, he’s also living with me and my mom for the summer, and he’s going to be my college roommate in the fall!” Parker gushed.

“Well, nice to meet you, Matt. I’m glad to know Parker is in good hands…uh, so to speak.”

A little giggle escaped from Parker.

“Hey, I know. Why don’t we catch up a little in a place where we don’t have to yell over the music. How about getting some lunch over there? My treat,” Andy offered.

“I still have a few things to do with my group before they leave,” Connor admitted.

“How long are you going to be?”

“Not long.”

“Well, you can meet us inside when you’re done. We’ll go get a table,” Andy directed.

So Andy, Parker, and I walked across the street to a little café that looked out on the revelry at the end point of the parade.

“So Matt, did Parker tell you a little bit about our organization?”

“A little, I guess,” I tried.

“Well, I work with BAGLY (Boston Area Gay and Lesbian Youth) an organization giving gay, lesbian, bi, and transgender young adults a safe place to socialize with other like-minded individuals and discuss issues of relevance in a supportive environment,” Andy informed me.

“Young adults?” I asked.

“Yes, under 22 years old,” he stated.

Then Parker broke in, “When I joined the group, I had just broken up with my ex and I was having a tough time trying to cope with it. I was looking for other gay people to talk to about my situation and get a better perspective. And I found my way to this group from a flyer hanging up at school.”

“And did it help?” Andy asked.

“Yes, and then Matt helped with the rest,” Parker explained.

“I did?”

Parker shook his head in the affirmative, “Yes.”

“Aw,” I said giving him a little hug.

“So Matt, when did you come out?” Andy asked.

“Ah, well…”

“Matt’s still trying to work things out. He’s kinda like bi now,” Parker clarified.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that,” Andy replied. “Everyone has a different time table. Is Parker the first guy you’ve been with?”

“Yeah, I was unexpectedly and immediately attracted to him,” I rationalized.

“Matt seduced me and then I seduced him back and we’ve been together ever since,” Parker added.

“I seduced you first?” I queried.

“That's how I remember it," he said. "Remember the popcorn...and my fingers?”

“Oh right, I guess you've got me there,” I replied.

“That’s great! And you’ve been practicing safe sex, I hope?” Andy inquired.

“Weeelll…” That’s when Parker went into his speech about where he’d been and where I came from and that we’re good not using protection. I was kind of half listening because I’d heard it before and the waitress came by to give us menus.

“We have one more coming. He should be here shortly,” Andy informed the waitress. She said she’d give us a few minutes and walked away. I excused myself because I needed to piss and went off in search of the men’s room. I took care of business, returned, and sat back down at the table.

“And when did you lose your virginity?” Parker queried. I was taken aback for a second until I recalled that’s where the conversation was headed before I went to the restroom.

“Oh, that was a long time ago,” Andy replied.

“Oh c’mon, I’ve never heard your story,” Parker urged him.

“Well, that wasn’t until I was a Senior in high school.”

“Who with?” Parker questioned.

“It was with a complete stranger who was cruising me on the subway,” Andy added.

“Really? A random guy on the subway?” Parker spouted. “Wow, you must have been desperate.”

“Well, I kinda was. At the time, I needed relief like any other gay high school student. And I knew it was going to have to be with a guy, so he was offering and I was willing,” Andy stated.

“So what happened?” Parker queried.

“Gee, um, well, he was older and we went to his place. At least, I think it was his place.”

“How old was he?” Parker asked.

“I dunno…late 20s, maybe early 30s. When you’re a teen burning for sex, you don’t ask.”

Then Andy went into the story of his first experience complete with sitting on a bed and making out, losing the clothes, and mutual blowjobs.

“So then he screwed you?” Parked added.

“No, subway guy tried to screw me, but it hurt so bad I made him stop. It was then that I decided anal wasn’t for me, and I never went back to it again.”

“Wait! So you’ve never…been fucked?” he ended in a whisper.

“Nah, I tried it that once and didn’t like it.”

“So you’re still a virgin?” Parker clarified.

“No, I’ve had a good deal of sex since. I was just never interested in anal again.”

“Well, you have to have anal to lose your virginity. That’s the whole definition or virginity. It’s the completion of the act of coitus…copulation…intercourse…in the vagina or in the butt with guys,” Parker declared.

“In the gay world, it’s different. Some guys just like oral sex. What if a guy has given 1,000 blowjobs? You can’t say that he’s a virgin,” Andy expounded.

“Sure, you’ve had sex, so you are not a virgin to sex in general. But you have never lost your virginity…meaning you’ve never popped your cherry,” Parker clarified.

“No, I don’t see it like that. The first time you have sex, you lose your virginity,” Andy pronounced.

“If that’s the case, where do you draw the line? If you just make out with a guy, by your definition, you lose your virginity?”

“No, you have to ejaculate to qualify,” Andy countered.

“So if you are in high school, and a straight guy lets you jerk him off in the locker room, the straight guy just lost his virginity? I think he’d beg to differ,” Parker theorized.

“It’s different in the gay world…”

“No, it’s not. Fucking is fucking. Once you fuck, you lose your virginity. Having other sex is still having sex, but giving someone a blow job is not losing your virginity! That’s only like third base. To go all the way and lose your virginity, you need to fuck! Technically, you are still a virgin.”

Andy sighed long and hard. “Matt, what is your stance on this?”

“Huh? No, I can’t.”

“Well, you must have an opinion on this topic,” Andy suggested.

“It would do no good. If I agree with Parker, you’ll say I’m biased. If I agree with you, Parker would beat on me later. It's a catch 22, so I plead the fifth.”

Parker laughed, “Go on, I’ll give you a free pass on this one.”

“Well, if you must know…I do agree with…Parker,” I finally concluded. “When I was dating girls, I got a couple of blowjobs before going all the way. I don’t count the blowjobs as anything more than sex. Sure, I had sex, but I didn’t lose my virginity until I actually fucked someone.”

“See?” Parker added.

While I was finishing my statement, Connor walked in and heard the tail end. “What the hell? I haven’t been gone but a few minutes and you guys are already talking about fucking,” he said with a devilish grin.

“Oh, we’re just having a debate,” Parker informed him.

“A debate…about fucking?” Connor questioned.

“Exactly,” Parker replied.

“That's why I love this guy!” Connor proclaimed.

“We seem to disagree about the point at which a guy loses his virginity,” Andy explained.

“Yeah, I say you have to fuck to lose your virginity. Andy says a blowjob is losing your virginity,” Parker added. “What do you think?”

“Well, I’m still a virgin and I’ve had three blowjobs,” Connor stated. “I’ve never had penetrative sex. The Virgin Mary, supposedly, never had penetrative sex, so that’s why she is called the Virgin Mary. Maybe Mary was eaten out a bunch of times, but we’ll never know that because it didn’t count,” Connor extolled.

I stifled a laugh because I’ve never heard anyone propose a theory on the Virgin Mary’s sex life.

Andy knew he was beaten. It was 3 to 1. Only Andy was of the opinion that he was not a virgin because he had done everything else. Connor had a few blowjobs and he considered himself a virgin. So in our minds, Andy was just deluding himself. Who wants to live their whole life as a virgin? No one. So that’s why some, mostly gay, men try to change the rules to make themselves feel better.

I felt kind of bad for Andy. He tried anal once in high school and it hurt so bad, he never revisited the act. I’m sure subway guy was trying it without any lube or with just spit. Sometimes spit isn’t enough. I’d lost my butt virginity to Parker with lube and it was awesome sex like I’d never experienced before, complete with intense full body orgasms. Some random guy on the subway tried anal without proper preparation a decade prior, and as a result, Andy had talked himself out of it forever.

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