Coming of Age
By: Brock Archer
(© 2020 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

barcher@tickiestories.us

Chapter 17
Strange Feelings

As if Troy weren’t getting enough attention, his eighteenth birthday fell on the last day of school, the second Friday in May. Mrs. Mazure had planned a small party for the following day, but during his first year at our school, Troy had made lots of friends. Everybody on the football team as well as those in the choir and half the girls in school practically begged to be invited to the celebration, so Mrs. Mazure reluctantly accepted the Andersen’s offer to host the party at their house.

Maria returned to Hilldale for Troy’s birthday party, as did Mike, of course. He wasn’t going to go anywhere without her.

The celebration was much like the ones Johnny and I had had on our birthdays. Kids swam in the pool, danced around it, ate burgers and other picnic food, and generally acted like teenagers. Troy got more presents than he had probably gotten in his whole life. He blew out the candles on the cake made by my mom and decorated by Mrs. Andersen with confectionary music symbols along with football gear. We all sang “Happy Birthday,” which seemed regressive given that the best voice in the crowd was Troy’s.

After Troy blew out his candles—no problem given his breath control—there were shouts of “Speech! Speech!” Troy obliged with a two-word speech, “I’m gay.” Reactions ranged from shock to laughter to shrugs. You might expect that deep in the State of Texas, the reaction might be to run him out of town on a rail, but not so. Of course, I already knew that Troy was gay, but I hadn’t expected this announcement. Some people looked to me to say something, but Johnny beat me to it.

Johnny got up from the patio chair he was sitting in, stood next to Troy with his hand on his shoulder, and spoke. “Some people might praise Troy for the courage it must have taken for him to make this statement, but to me, that seems a bit condescending. Why should it take courage to be who we are? No doubt trying to keep this aspect of his life hidden has imposed tremendous stress on him, and I am happy for him that he no longer has to deal with this stress. I wonder how many of us could have achieved all that he has under that stress.

“A German Gestalt psychiatrist named Fritz Perls once said, ‘I do my thing and you do your thing. I am not in this world to live up to your expectations, and you are not in this world to live up to mine. You are you, and I am I, and if by chance we find each other, it's beautiful.’ Personally, I don’t care if you are gay, straight, bisexual, or transcendental” (which drew snickers from the few people in the crowd who caught the nuance). “I am just glad and honored that you found me, bro. You have been my friend since the day we met, and you will, I hope, continue to be my friend for as long as we live—provided I don’t do anything stupid to screw it up.

“I want to wish my friend a very happy birthday and many more.” And with that, Johnny hugged Troy and said, “I love you, bro.”

Mrs. Mazure, Mrs. Andersen, and Mom wiped tears from their eyes. Most of the kids, including all of the football players, came forward and shook Troy’s hand or hugged him.

Then, quite a few eyes turned toward me. More out of frustration than anything else, I rose to speak. “Everybody here knows that Troy and I are friends, so some of you may be wondering in view of what Troy has just said if I am also gay. The honest answer is that I don’t know. I like girls, as some of you in this crowd can attest.” (A few snickers circulated through the crowd.) “I also like guys, especially this one right here,” I said reaching for Troy’s hand. “I don’t know if that makes me gay, straight, bisexual, or, as Johnny says, ‘transcendental’. I think it makes me human. Beyond that, I’m still exploring, and if I ever reach a conclusion, you can read about it in my best-selling memoirs.”

Some people laughed, and others just scratched their heads. Johnny hugged me and said that he loved me. All of my teammates on the football team shook my hand or slapped me on the back as they had done with Troy. Some of the girls kissed me on the cheek, and several said something like, “You still have my phone number, don’t you?”

When our classmates turned their attention back to partying, our parents came forward and hugged us. Not one of them said anything like, “I love you regardless.” Regardless of what? Rather, they affirmed their love for us, and that’s all we needed.

Mike and Maria, who had been sitting back observing all of this activity, came up and spoke to Troy and me both. I didn’t hear what she said to Troy, but she gave him a kiss on the lips. It’s wasn’t a sexual thing…more like an Italian thing.

She also kissed me on the lips in that cultural, big-sister way and said, “Yes, you are a human being, a very beautiful human being.” God, I hope you become my sister-in-law. Mike gave me a great big bear hug, and said, “I am so proud of you, Patrick Captain Fucking America Murphy.” And as he started to walk away, he turned back, waved a finger in my face, and cautioned, “And keep away from my girl.”

After everyone else had left, I said to my folks, “I’m staying with Troy tonight.” When that definitive statement drew an odd look from them, I turned to Mrs. Mazure and said, “If that’s all right with you, ma’am. I think he could use a friend right now.” Mrs. Mazure replied, “Thank you, Rick. You’re always welcome in our home.”

In Troy’s room, we debriefed the events of the day and decompressed. Yes, for Troy especially, a tremendous weight had been lifted off his shoulders, but it also left him wondering, “OK, what do I do now?”

“What can I do to help?” I asked.

“Make love to me,” he said.

“All the way?” I asked.

“All the way.”

I kissed him tenderly and undressed him slowly, kissing him lightly as I worked my way down his body. Then I removed my own clothes and took him to bed. We kissed again, enjoying the taste and feel of each other. I needed no priming; I was instantly and completely hard. I asked if he had any lube, and he said, “Night stand.” I opened the one drawer in the only night stand and retrieved the bottle of lube, which had never been opened. “I’ve had it for two years,” he said. “Never had the occasion to use it before.” I smiled and began to grease up my cock and his hole. Even though I had lost my virginity to a couple of girls two years before, I felt like I was losing it now all over again, and I was about to make love to a virgin too.

I rubbed the tip of my penis gently against his hole but did not push it in yet. I traded my penis for my index finger, which I inserted slowly. Troy flinched. “Relax,” I said. “Just relax.” Once I had my finger all the way in, I slowly rubbed it around, teasing his prostate. I pulled the finger out slowly and then inserted two fingers. He flinched again. He was incredibly tight. I was beginning to doubt that he would be able to accept my huge dick, but I continued rubbing two fingers in and out, and he began to moan with pleasure.

“I want you,” he said. “I need you inside of me.”

I took my tool into my hand and directed it to his opening. I again massaged the tip against it. I primed his sphincter muscle until I was able to get the head of my penis past it. Troy winced in pain. I had read that pain was common until the rectum adjusted to the foreign invasion, but what the hell did I know? This was my first time too.

I paused to give his insides time to cope. When I felt his body relax, I inched my way deeper. In and back, in and back, in and back until I felt the tip of my cock against his prostate. I had no way of knowing what Troy was feeling, physically or emotionally, but my dick was feeling fucking incredible.

“How are you doing, babe?” I asked. He didn’t speak. He just looked up at me with dreaminess in his eyes. I leaned forward and kissed him, just the lips at first and then with my tongue in his mouth. “I’m inside you,” I whispered in his ear. “We are joined together. You are mine, and I am yours.”

I rose up and began again pulling my penis almost out, but not completely, and pushing it back in again, going slightly deeper each time. I knew he would never be able to accept the full length of my giant dick, but I kept going until one of us could not take any more.

His moaning became more peaceful, more reflective of satisfaction. I took that as my cue to press on. I increased the speed of my insertions. In, out; in, out; in, out. Damn, it felt so good. I was trying so hard to take it easy for his sake, but my dick was screaming for more. “You OK, baby?” He moaned his approval, so I picked up the pace once more.

I didn’t want to come. Not yet. I wanted to hold out as long as I could for his sake as well as mine. I slowed the pace, reached over for the bottle of lube and poured some onto his penis, which was as hard as mine. I pumped his cock in my hand with the rhythm of my dick in his ass. He began to squeal. “Oh, god!” he suppressed his scream. I could tell that he wanted to scream his head off but didn’t dare because we were not alone in the house. I knew how he felt; I too wanted to scream and curse and praise the lord for this divine sensation.

I pumped harder, but I had to be careful not to push too deep, which would not have been pleasant for either of us. My cock began to throb, but I also felt his dick pulsating in my hand. I had to hold out and let him come first because I was afraid that if I came first, I would just collapse in exhaustion and not be able to finish him off.

I slowed the pace of my pelvic thrusts while accelerating the pumping of his penis with my hand. I willed myself to hold out. And it worked. He exploded, spewing volley after volley of jizz over his head, across his face, and onto his chest and belly. His glorious love juices covered his beautiful, virile, hairy body. The contrast of the luscious white cream against his thick black fur was beautiful and incredibly erotic.

It was too much for me to resist, so I shot into him like a cannon. “Ah. Ah. Ah. Fuck! Oh, god! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I knew I had to keep my fucking mouth shut because his mother would inevitably hear us, but I could not hold back. Hell, I wanted the whole fucking State of Texas to hear our screams of ecstasy. I felt like his body was sucking my whole body inside of him, making us truly one being, united in the blissful pain of sexual union.

I totally collapsed on top of him. There was almost nothing left of me, but, luckily, I could still feel his hard, hairy body beneath me and his life juices squishing between us. The feeling was indescribable.

I had had sex before—with girls—but there was something profoundly different about this experience, and not just for the obvious reasons. As overwhelmed as I was with the unbelievably intense physicality of this act, I was equally consumed by the epiphanous spirituality of it.

I wanted to kiss him to make sure that he was all right, to make sure that I had pleased him and not just used him for my own sexual gratification, but I could not even muster the strength to raise my head. I just rubbed my cheek against his and purred. He purred back, and that told me that all was well.

My dick stayed hard inside of him for the longest time, and every time I felt it start to slip out, I pushed it in further. Even soft, it was bigger than many when they are hard, so I was able to stay inside of him for quite a while.

I panted and panted until I finally fell asleep on top of him and still inside of him. At some point, I know that he had pushed me off because I woke to find myself lying beside him with his head against my shoulder and his arm stretched over my chest.

“I love you, baby.” Maybe it was too much, but it was the only thing I could think to say.

“Are we in heaven?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I answered. “But last night sure as hell was.”

We lay there in bed for quite a while, just enjoying the feel of each other before we finally got up and took a shower. I didn’t know what was on his agenda for the day, but I felt that I should get home. I crept downstairs hoping that I would not run into his mother. I felt absolutely no shame for what we had done, but I did feel a little bad about having made such a ruckus. As I neared the front door, she came out of the kitchen and caught me. She kissed me on the cheek and looked me straight in the eye. “Rick, what I said last night, I meant it. You are always welcome in our home.” Such a sweet lady. Why can’t every mother be like this? I hugged her and went on my way.

When I got home, I expected to find that Maria had returned to New York and maybe Mike had gone with her, but I found everyone sitting around the den, almost as if they were attending a wake, it seemed at the time. “How is Troy?” Mom asked.

“He’s fine,” I said. “He’s good.”

“And how are you, son?” asked Dad.

“I’m good, Dad. I’m good. We’re both good.”

“Have you had anything to eat?” Mom asked.

“No, I’m…I’m….” I hadn’t even thought about food. “Actually, I’m starving.” That drew a snicker out of everyone.

“You run upstairs and change.” I was still wearing the same clothes I had worn the day before. “I’ll have some breakfast for you when you get back downstairs.”

When I entered my room, I just stood there by the bed, still a bit dazed.

“Rick?” I heard the voice coming from the doorway. I turned to find Mike standing there. “From the way you’re acting, I really can’t tell if what happened with you last night was good or bad, but either way, I’m here for you if you need to talk about it.”

I mustered up a faint smile and replied, “It was good, Mike. Very good. It’s just…I don’t know. It’s like everything is different now. The whole world has changed, and I don’t know what…I don’t know how….”

Was I in love with Troy? Or was I just delirious from this new world that had suddenly burst wide open for me?

“I understand,” he said. “Believe it or not, I really do.” He sat me down on the bed, pulled up a chair, leaned in, and said to me, “It’s a beautiful world, champ. Yes, there are bad things out there too, but there’s more beauty than any of us can process. It looks to me like you might have gotten an overdose of that beauty last night, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. You’ll survive.” We both chuckled. “Keep your head up. Walk proudly. And grab all the beauty you can. You deserve it. You’re Patrick Captain Fucking America Murphy.”

At the time, I’m not sure I could process exactly what he was saying, but I could feel the love in it, and it almost brought me to tears. He leaned over and gave me a little hug, but I must have caught him off guard when I jumped up from the bed and squeezed him as hard as I could. When we broke that lock, he walked toward the door. But he stopped, turned back to face me, and said, “You don’t have to tell me anything, but I’m here if you ever feel the need to talk. I’m always here for you. I love you, champ.”

When he walked down the stairs, I closed the door, walked back to my bed, and collapsed in tears. They were tears of joy, tears of confusion, tears of accomplishment, tears of doubt, tears of angst, tears of hope. But mostly, they were tears of feeling overwhelmed with more love than I ever imagined could exist.

*******

I gave Eddie and Carlos the next day off. I felt that doing the chores myself might help me clear my head. That afternoon, while I was sitting under the old oak tree out in the sheep pasture, Mike walked up and asked, “Mind if I join you?” I smiled up at him and gestured to the spot beside me under the tree.

After a long stretch of silence, Mike spoke, “Two weeks until our trip to Europe. You still up for it?”

“Of course,” I said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just checking.” After another pause, he informed me that he and Maria would be leaving the next day. “I need to go back to San Francisco to prepare for the trip,” he explained, “but I’ll meet you guys at the airport in New York for the flight to Athens.”

“OK.”

As Mike got up to leave, I stopped him, “Mike?”

“Yeah, champ?”

“What is love?”

“Whoa. Philosophers and poets have been struggling with that question for millennia.”

“I mean, how do you know if you’re in love…if it’s real?”

Mike sat back down on the ground, not next to me, but facing me. He took a deep breath and continued, “Despite what you hear in love songs and read in Hallmark cards,” he continued, “love is not this universal, unitary thing. It has neurochemical aspects, physical elements, emotional and psychological components, and more, and people do not experience them all the same. Some people believe that they have fallen in love at first sight, but what they probably experienced was infatuation. Sometimes that infatuation evolves into real love, sometimes not. Other people develop strong friendships over time that eventually lead to love. When you’re in love,” Mike said, “you don’t know. You’re too confused to know. You can only know when you start to accept it or reject it.”

“I must really be confused,” I said, “because I don’t even understand what you just said.”

Mike chuckled and explained, “Do you remember that song that Troy sang at the concert last year, ‘Strange Feelings’?

Why does my heart beat so madly I can’t even breathe?
Why does my head spin so wildly I can’t even think?
Why do my feet only stumble whenever I walk?
Why do my lips only mumble when I try to talk?

Why do I hear bluebirds singing love songs in the air?
Why do I see rainbows gleaming when nothing is there?
Why do the stars twinkle at me in broad daylight?
Why do I feel the sun’s rays in the middle of night?

Why does the river run backwards and time stand still?
Why does the world seem so crazy and yet seem so real?
What are these strange and mysterious feelings in me?
What do they want from me, why won’t they just let me be?

“It looks to me like that’s what you’re going through right now,” he noted. “Don’t try to analyze it, Rick. Just experience it. Let it wash over you. Bathe in it. At some point the fog will clear, and you will understand whether it was love or not, but either way, you will be a better person for the experience, a better man, and, eventually, a better lover.”

“Wow. I’m surprised that you remembered all those lyrics,” I said.

“Well, that song had a tremendous impact on me because that’s what I was going through at the time. I didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t.”

“Maria?” I asked.

Mike grinned and acknowledged the fact.

“I can tell you this much. When you are in love, that person’s life means more to you than your own, and when you’re both in love, each of you will feel that he is the lucky one.

“There may be times when you can’t quite hear the bluebirds singing,” he said, “but they will always come back around, and when the noise settles, you will hear them again.”

“Are you in love with Maria now?” I asked.

“I think I may be,” he replied. “But I can tell you this: I’m the lucky one.”

“Looks to me,” I said, “that you’re both pretty damn lucky. And I’m lucky to have the best damn brother in the whole wide world.”

Mike smiled. “You’re just saying that because you’re really confused right now.”

To be continued...

Posted: 02/26/2021