Hurricane's Reward
By: Henry Higgins
(Copyright 2006 by the Author)

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

I grunted as I stepped from our cool house into the suffocating, sweet steam bath that had followed the hurricane's passage. My dad and I had just moved into our new home on the U.S. East Coast. Two days after we moved in, a powerful hurricane devastated coastal North Carolina before making its way inland, flooding Appalachian communities with torrential rains, and then finally dissipating up around New England. We'd had strong winds and about two inches of rain, but no major damage. I was sorry for the people who were flooded; but more than that, highly irritated at having to spend such a drippy afternoon picking up sticks and other debris that had fallen from our trees into the yard. Even though I wore only my running shorts with nothing under, I dripped continually. If it hadn't been against the law, I would have taken the shorts off as well, though I doubted that would have helped much.

 I was picking up sticks and stuffing them into an old wheelie garbage can, when a kid came walking along the sidewalk, like maybe he was coming home from a sports practice somewhere. I'm always careful not to be obvious when I check guys out, but I always check them out -- I mean, always! And this one checked out nice -- maybe a year or two younger than me, either still in high school or in his first year of college -- shoulder-length sandy-blonde hair kept neat -- black shorts and cutoff tee with some strange band's name on it. The obligatory backpack. Yeah, the shorts were pulled down to show off his boxers and the tee was cut off about mid-tummy, but that was the style then. I admired the abs that rippled up out of sight under his T-shirt.

He smiled and said, "Hi."

"Hi," I said, pleasantly surprised that he didn't just pass by on his way to wherever he was going. I had felt isolated at my former school, but even more so in this new location, so it was nice to have even cursory companionship from someone near my own age.

I bent to snag another couple of sticks, aware of his gaze roving over my nearly nude body. I wasn't pumped and buffed, but neither was I flabby. I was just so into my writing and photography that I didn't take time to go out for a sport. Phys-ed was my only activity at school, other than going from class to class. I was okay with that, too. We all have our priorities. 

He stopped walking and stood on the sidewalk. "You're new around here," he said with a slight accent that was slightly different yet hard to place.

"Yeah -- we moved in last Saturday." I was still pleased that he hadn't just passed me off like so many other kids. I spent a lot of time back then worrying that I was too nerdy, or artsy-fartsy if you want to call it that. 

"Cool," he said. "I spent Saturday over at my cousin's; I guess that's why I didn't see ya movin' in. Looks like you got a pretty big job there. I could help with it if you'd like."

"That would be fantastic," I answered, beaming at the chance for some company and the chance for quicker relief from the steam bath.

"Lemme take this pack home and change into some work clothes. Then I'll be right back. I live just up the street." 

"Okay, um, yeah... What's your name? I'm Dean Applegate."

 "Oh, sorry. I'm Ted Smyth -- with a y." 

"Okay, Ted. I'll see you later."  

"Right. See ya in a quick." With that, Ted jogged up the street to a house some five or six doors away from us as I watched. How could anyone run in all that heat and humidity? I quickly ducked back into the house to get Ted a pair of work gloves before continuing the drudgery of raking and picking up more sticks, pleasantly musing on the happy chance to work with a cute guy who might become a new friend.

Our new house sat on a large lot that was totally shaded by several huge trees -- sycamores, I think. We had had one where we lived before moving. The trees were beautiful; they would cover the house with full shade in the summer when their broad leaves were out, yet let the sun into the windows during the cold months when the leaves had dropped. But those trees were the dirtiest damned things! Every other year, they would shed a layer of bark that had to be raked up. And then in July, their leaves would start to fall, even though they wouldn't finish shedding until well past the height of the color season. Even though they were a ton of work, I still liked them because of their soft, green color -- not a bright green, but a more muted, green that turned softly golden as summer wore into fall.

Soon, Ted came bounding back up to me. He had changed into a pair of shorts briefer than mine, and like me, wore no shirt. I could only stare. He looked down at himself and then up at me as he smiled slightly. What beautiful legs he had, with just a hint of a light blond down on them. And, a nicely sized package seemed to rest between those legs. With his shorts so brief, I could see the outline of his cock but no prominent ridge of the head. His upper body seemed flawless, with that ripply set of abs now in full view. His nipples were broad, puffy, and dark coral with teats that stood out prominently. I summed up all of this in my gaze of only several seconds before tearing my eyes away. Nice!

"Okay, Dean, what can I do?" he asked somewhat breathless from his running in the humid heat.

I didn't say what I would have liked very much for him to do. Instead, I said, "I figure I could rake the stuff into piles and you could follow along with the can and put them in. Would that be okay?" 

"Sure, that'd be great," he said. 

We worked that way for a while -- me raking debris into piles and Ted bending to pick them up and put them into the old garbage can. I saw that he also had bypassed underwear as one pendulous ball would flop out of his shorts and then back in as he bent and then straightened. Lovely! We were making such good progress that I was already looking forward to relaxing with this cute boy on my porch with a tall, cool drink.

"Man! It's like a steam bath out here," I said.

"Yeah," Ted answered. "That's why I came out dressed like you. My school clothes were soaked by the time I got home."

Ted seemed comfortable with his body, almost like he didn't notice himself, even with a stranger like me. I fervently hoped I wouldn't be a stranger for long. He seemed to be scoping me out, just as I was scoping him. Could he feel the same about me as I did about him? Only time would tell -- not too much time, I hoped. My pulse quickened at the thought; and that wasn't my only reaction. My penis started to do its thing. Ohmigod! I couldn't just pop a woody out here in front of the whole neighborhood and this beautiful guy. Was it my imagination, or were his eyes already on my crotch? 

I grinned. He grinned back. 

"Sorry," I said. "It happens sometimes."

"Yeah, I know. It happens to me, like, all the time. In school, I can usually hide it except for when we shower after track. Then it embarrasses the hell out of me!"

"Well, that must put us even with just about the rest of male humanity," I commented.

"Yeah, I guess. I've seen some of the other guys on my team pop boners in there, too."

It was plain to see that he was responding to my arousal as his very brief shorts began to swell in front of him, which made even more room for his left nut to hang down just out of his shorts. I felt that I had to do something to relieve the tension that was building as we stood there, each watching the other get hard. So, I raked up another pile of sticks and twigs, saying, "Well, I guess the sooner we get back at this, the sooner we'll get done. Then we can relax inside with a nice cold drink."

"Okay, Dean," he said. "I'm ready to go." 

I watched Ted as he bent to lift another pile of leaves and twigs into the can. He had not an ounce of fat on him. A couple of times, he noticed me watching, smiled, and then bent back to work. Each time, I would return the smile. I became aware that the tension between my legs had not subsided much. From what I could see of him, he hadn't deflated completely, either.

Before long, we had picked up all the tree debris in the large yard and filled the can. "Ted, you've been a great help. I'll put the rake away; could you put the can back by the compost pile? Then we can grab something cool to drink, if you'd like."

"Sure, Dean. That sounds good! I'm ready for something cold about now."

Finished with the yard work, we went through the garage into the laundry-mud room, where I hesitated. Normally, I would just shuck my dirty work clothes, putting them into the washer. My dad and I were cool with being naked around each other and from what he'd said I thought Ted might be, too. But I couldn't be completely sure of his reaction. Still, we had been checking each other out -- I was pretty sure of that. So I decided to risk a little and ask.

 "I usually put my dirty clothes right into the wash at this point. Would it weird you out for me to do that now? I could add your shorts, if you want. They'll be dry by the time you're ready to go home. My dad won't be home from work till late. If you want, we can wear beach towels until our clothing's done."

He eyed me carefully but then seemed to relax, grinned, and said, "Sure, Dean, throw mine in, too."  

Shucking my dripping shorts, socks, and shoes, I said, "No sweat!" and dumped them into the washer. 

He eyed me closely. Other than my slight softness of body, I didn't think I looked too bad, although I hadn't always felt that way about myself. I noticed his eyes linger just below my belt line. It felt good to be checked out that way. My cock went from soft to semi-hard with the attention. 

Ted beamed as he shucked his shorts, socks, and shoes, handing them to me to add to the little load of wash. Now it was my turn to check him out and I liked what I saw. He was quite smooth. A light covering of barely visible down on his legs meandered up into a small, neat patch of amber pubes just above his cock. Like mine, his cock receded almost inside itself when he was soft so that the most noticeable part of his penis was his ample foreskin drooping down over the glans. But unlike me, his balls swayed in a long scrotum, where mine stayed snug and close to my crotch even in all this heat.

I wrapped the towel around my middle, rolling the top down to keep it in place. My semi-hard tented it out slightly, exerting a slight, pleasant pressure. Ted began to wrap his towel as I had done, but not before I noticed his cock standing at full attention, brushing against his belly just below his navel. His foreskin had retracted only partially, exposing the moist, pink tip of his penis, He blushed and smiled as he noticed me looking and then wrapped himself. 

"The damn thing hardly ever goes down these days, especially when I see someone as nice as you," he said.  

Then I blushed. I had always thought of myself as more average than anything -- certainly not "nice" as Ted had put it. 

"You're quite nice, yourself," I said.

"You really think so? I'm always worried that it's too small, or that I don't have enough hair, or that there's something wrong with my balls 'cause they hang so low." 

I chuckled. "I used to think the same, always comparing myself to the guys who really hung low in the locker room at my old school. Then, a guy in a, um, group that I belonged to told me one day about show-ers and grow-ers." 

"Huh? Show-ers and grow-ers? I've never heard of that." 

I replied, "It's like, you know, some guys when they're totally soft, their dicks hang with anywhere from four to six inches showing; but then when they get hard, they don't get much longer -- it just stands up and gets thicker and maybe only a little longer. And then, other guys, like me and maybe you, are shorter when we're soft. But then we grow to about the same length as the others when we get hard -- somewhere around five and-a-half to six-and-a-half inches. Get it? Show-ers and grow-ers!" 

He grinned. "Oh yeah! That makes sense. The guy who has his locker right next to mine must be a show-er. I look at him when we're changing and think his thing must almost drag the ground when he's naked. Er, um, that is, when I happen to glance his way every now and then."

I scoffed, "Yeah, right, Ted. Don't bullshit me -- we all check each other out in the showers. That's no big deal -- just a guy thing, ya know? Like you and I have been checking each other out." 

"Yeah, I guess," he admitted sheepishly. "It's just that 'most everybody around here seems to feel that they can't appear to be gay, you know -- even with stupid stuff like checking each other out." 

My hopes fell a little. I thought Ted had been sending deliberate signals about his interest in me, and that it was sexual. And as I thought about it, I realized that he still might have that intent. However, by then, I was probably as much an unknown quantity to him as he was to me. All I knew then was that I was initially quite attracted to him. And, he seemed to be attracted to me. Then I remembered a principle that my group leader had always stressed -- friendship first and then, if it feels right, sex. So I resolved to abandon my heated pursuit of the fast track into bed and concentrate instead on friendship. Well, at least I would try. I was really horned for this guy. 

I responded, "Yeah, it was the same at my old school, too. I think it sucks. I mean, why do we have to go around maintaining this big show of 'I'm not gay, nosiree!' Why is that so fucking important, anyway?" 

"'Cause gay kids get the shit kicked out of them all the time."

I sobered. "I guess you're right. It's so sad. There was a gay kid at my old school that got jumped by a bunch of 'phobes. They beat him so badly that he had brain damage as a result. They caught the assholes that did it and wound up trying them as adults and sending them to prison for years. So not only did his life get messed up, these other kids totally ruined theirs. And for what! Just to prove what macho he-men they were? That they weren't gay? Please!" 

But then, that kid who had gotten beaten up so badly had been my best friend -- almost my lover. I hadn't meant to get so worked up over it, but every time I got into it, my blood boiled. And I still grieved for Andy. I began to get misty. Before I knew it, I was staring blankly into space. 

Ted looked at me intently when he noticed my reaction. "Hey, Dean -- you okay?" 

"Yeah. Why?" I said. 

"You, like, totally spaced out. And your eyes are all glassy." 

I replied, "Yeah, I guess I did. The kid who got beaten so badly was my best friend. It still gets to me at times. I miss him so much -- you know, the way he used to be. After the beating, it was like he spent all the time away on a permanent mental vacation." 

"Oh, major bummer. I'm really sorry to hear that. I guess it would get to me, too. Were you guys, like, really close?" 

"Yeah. We were about as close as two guys could be. And then after he got out of the hospital, it was like he only casually knew me -- or anyone else for that matter -- even his parents." I kind of choked up as I re-lived those horrendous days. 

Ted put a hand on my arm as he looked directly into my eyes. "That sounds really tragic, Dean. I'm so sorry." 

I returned his gaze through misty eyes and could only nod with a wan smile. I needed to break the somber mood that had come upon me. 

"So," I said, "How about something cold to drink? We have sodas and ice tea." 

"You got any ginger ale? That's my favorite." 

"I'll see," I answered, as I went to the pantry. "Yup, here's some right here. In a glass with ice?" 

"Fine," he said. 

I got us each one, added ice to the glasses, and gave Ted his. As we padded out of the kitchen, I said, "Why don't we go upstairs to my place? Then we don't have to worry about any unwanted interruptions in our… current state of dress." I grinned as I said this, acknowledging our mutual states of near-nudity. 

Ted grinned. "Yeah, I see what you mean. You don't have any sisters, do you?"  

"Nope. It's just me. I live with my dad. He and Mom broke up a few years ago, and I chose to live with him. I visit Mom on holidays." 

"That must suck big time." 

I tried to pass it off. "Yeah, well, shit happens, ya know. Actually, it's worked out quite nicely for me, because I get along with my dad so much better than with my mom. Dad set this place up so that I have, like, my own apartment. Come on up and I'll show you." 

We ascended the stairs to my lair. "Wow! Dean, dude! This place absolutely rocks! And it's all yours?" 

"Yep, except that it doesn't have a kitchen or laundry area. We share those downstairs. I do have a microwave, though. Dad lives in a similar setup on the other end of the house. Come on out to the porch." I led the way through my sitting room onto a spacious, private screened porch that extended the width of the house at that point. Two ceiling fans moved the air around in the space. I had the jalousie windows closed to keep out the humid air. 

Ted couldn't stop exclaiming how nice it was that I had, like, my own apartment -- and that it was so private! I agreed with him; I felt very fortunate indeed. 

"Gee, Dean," he said, "It's so private back here. You wouldn't need to wear anything sitting out here when it's warm." 

"As a matter of fact, I often don't. I guess you could call me a wannabe nudist." 

He giggled. "You mean we could be nude out here now? Would that be okay with you?" 

"Sure -- if you want," I answered. My hopes soared again. 

"Cool! Let's do it," he said. We unwrapped our towels, laid them aside, and that's how I came to be sitting in the buff on my porch with a foxy guy, who also happened to be in the buff on this sultry day after an early fall hurricane on America's East Coast. 

"Where do you go to school?" I asked. 

"I'm a senior at Marshall High." 

" I'm in my second year at the community college," I said. 

"What are you studying?" he asked. 

"Creative writing and photography," I said.  

"I didn't even know they have that at the community college," he said. 

"I was surprised, too. With us moving here in the middle of a term, it made sense for me to finish my second year there and then see where I want to go -- that is, if I go any further." 

Ted looked surprised. "You mean you wouldn't get a degree? But, how could you not? I mean, don't you have to have a degree to do anything in creative arts?" 

I smiled. "You're probably right. At least, most people do. I've already had a couple of short stories published in the Missouri Review and one is coming out soon in Ploughshares. So I have this wild dream that just maybe I have enough talent that I won't have to go through the 'get-your-degree' mess." 

Ted's face showed total admiration. "Wow, Dean! I never knew anybody our age could be that successful so fast." 

"I still have a long way to go," I answered. "But, I read a novel recently by a kid who's just nineteen. It's like a best seller on the New York Times list. Do you read fantasy or science fiction?" 

"Love it," said Ted. 

"Well he wrote this book that's a story about a dragon rider. It's the first of three. And he's only freakin' nineteen! So I figure if I'm already getting published in some literary mags, I just may have a chance." 

"I sure hope you make it," he said softly. 

Suddenly, I realized something that had been puzzling me in the recesses of my consciousness. How odd it was for this boy to make friends with me, then come inside and be so ready to be nude together. It confused me because I had interpreted his moves as pointing to sex. Indeed, I had been getting more than a little turned on. But now, here we sat, carrying on a completely normal, non-sexual conversation with neither of us very aroused and both completely nude!  

I must have smirked, because Ted said, "What? Why are you looking that way?" 

"What way?" I asked. 

"Like, I don't know -- like you know something that I don't." 

"I just thought that it's awfully odd -- we've just met and here we sit on my porch, completely nude, and neither of us is all that turned on or making a move towards anything sexual," I answered. 

"Oh, yeah... I see what you mean. Well, I guess I'd better tell you... my parents are nudists. Dad's English and mum is French. When I was little, we'd spend most of our vacation time either at nudist camps or nude beaches. A lot of them have closed recently, so we don't do that so much anymore. In a way, I really miss it -- being able to be with people, all of us nude, and nobody worried about anything sexual... just everybody laid back, enjoying themselves, and having fun. You're the first person I've met who seemed even remotely interested in being nude together. I picked up on it when you called yourself a wannabe nudist just now." 

I smiled. "Oh, yeah -- I did say that, didn't I?" Okay, so that's where the accent came from. 

"Yeah, and I'm really glad we can be like this," he said. 

"Me too, Ted. But I guess I'd better be honest with you, just like you were with me. Early on, I took some of your moves to mean something sexual -- nothing terribly obvious -- just the way we checked each other out when you first came up and your readiness to be nude. To me, all that had a sexual feel to it that I really liked. I must admit -- I find you quite attractive... not just sexually, but also in a more general sense. Whether or not we ever have sex, I'd really like to be friends with you."  

He smiled and blushed. "I'm not surprised," he said. "I've had to get used to people thinking I'm coming on to them when I'm really not; but that's been more with girls than it has with guys. It's not that I'm against sexual stuff; it's just that I see sex as something that works better when it comes after you've gotten to know someone. Then, it takes on a deeper meaning, whether it's friendly or romantic. And by the way Dean, I hope we can be friends, too. And, it wouldn't be so bad to be sexual together, you know."

Now it was my turn to smile and blush. "Thanks, Ted." 

"So, Dean..." he said. "Are you? Um, you know... gay?" 

There it was -- that question -- the one that had always given me so much trouble… still did… even after all the counseling I'd had around the issue. I swallowed hard and looked Ted directly in the eye. "Yeah, I am, Ted. I hope that doesn't change anything for you, because I really want us to be friends, even if we never have sex together. I meant it when I said that I find you sexually attractive, but please don't take that to mean that you have to worry about me trying to jump you all the time. It's not that way."  

"Oh, no, man! It doesn't change a damned thing. If you don't mind my saying so... uh, I've been wishing I could meet someone gay who's also intelligent. I have some questions about it, but I don't dare ask any of my school buds, or the 'rents. They'd have a field day with that one. So I kinda hoped, um, you might be gay so you could help me answer some questions -- like, how you knew, what it's like to be gay -- stuff like that. Sometimes I think I might be; but then other times, I think I really like girls, too."  

I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath until I exhaled audibly, as the air came whooshing out of me and I settled down. "Sure, man! I'd be way happy to help you if I can. I'm glad you asked me." We sipped our drinks as I took stock of what I might tell this boy. 

"First, let me say that the, um, group I mentioned earlier was a GLBT Support Group at my old high school." 

"GLBT -- what's that?" 

"Sorry… It stands for Gay-Lesbian-Bisexual-Transgendered -- it kinda includes most of the sexual minorities we have today." 

"Oh. Okay..." 

"Those people really helped me… they, like, saved my life!" I had to stop talking abruptly as my throat tightened and my eyes began to fill. I was surprised that it came on me so suddenly. I guess the pain was still there and still raw -- the pain of losing Andy. 

"Um, they helped me get in touch with the real me. I mean, it's so heavy -- the pressure to be 'normal' and straight -- that a lot of kids who are gay, including me, just stuff those feelings down so far that we can't reach them or deal with them, but they keep affecting us." Ted studied me intently. 

In spite of my tight throat I said, "I'm sorry, Ted. I still get like this when I start talking about it." 

Ted looked a little worried. "It's okay, Dean. Look… you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."  

"Oh, it's not that I don't want to talk about it. Actually, it really helps because there's nobody around here that I can talk to about it. I guess it's still pretty new to me… the pain that is. When I started to uncover the feelings that I'd stuffed down for so long, they came bubbling up all at once. I was really scared... I didn't know what to do with them. The group really helped me to deal with them and to kill some of my demons. So many gay kids get depressed when their feelings start to bubble out. Our group leader thinks that a lot of teen suicides are committed by boys who are struggling with being gay." 

Ted still held me in his intent gaze. "I never knew, Dean. Are you, like… um… were you thinking about offing yourself?" 

I smiled. "No, I was lucky. I had the group for support, along with my dad, who has been great. When I was really struggling with all my anger and resentment, he and the group kept me talking about it. There was a time when a couple of the group members 'watched' me during the day and checked in with me every couple of hours. But that didn't have to last long." 

Ted's attention never wavered. "So, it sounds like you knew you were gay for a long time." 

"Well, yes and no, I guess. As I look back on it, I had known for a long time that I really liked looking at boys' cocks. They fascinated me. My own cock fascinated me -- like how it would get stiff every now and then and I didn't know why it did that. I was about seven or eight when I discovered that if I scooted along the floor or on the ground, my cock would feel really good. Sometime in the year after I discovered scooting on my cock, I had my first dry orgasm. The feeling was just indescribable." 

Ted smiled. "Yeah… my first time was grand, too." 

"And along in there, I also started to play show-me games with other boys in the neighborhood -- you know, kid stuff that we all get into." 

Ted nodded. 

"So when I got into Boy Scouts when I was 11, that's when I first learned about jacking off -- at summer camp -- you know, with your hand. That's the first time I remember being so intensely interested in another kid's dick that I yearned to touch it and hold it." 

"So did you?" he asked. 

"Um, yeah, I did. My tent mate and I felt each other one night. We were both hard as could be. I was so fascinated by how warm his dick was, and how soft on the outside, but hard underneath the skin. Everything about him fascinated me -- his cock, his balls, his whole body! After we returned from summer camp, he and I found a private place in the woods behind our development. Almost every afternoon after school, we would go out there and do each other. That's where each of us shot for the first time -- in the other's hand. It was, like, the perfect friendship for each of us." 

"Do you still see him?" Ted asked. 

"No. A couple of years before we moved here, he got a girlfriend and we stopped messing around with each other. We don't have any contact any more," I said, feeling wistful again. 

"I'm sorry about that." 

Again my emotions betrayed me as I half-gulped and half-sobbed. "Yeah, Ted; I miss him so much. It's like I still have this hole in my heart where he used to be. I'm sorry I'm being such a crybaby," I sniveled.  

"Well, um, sometimes you need to." Ted put his hand on my arm and it was like electricity shot through me there.  

He continued, "The thing I don't get is this: what’s the difference between just playing around with a kid when you're that age or our age, and being gay and in love with him? It sounds to me like you may have been in love with that kid." 

"I'm not sure I understand it all that well, Ted. It's like -- to him, we were just playing around -- almost like he was doing it to get ready for having a girlfriend. But it was so much more than that for me. I used to dream of him and me traveling together and living together. I would beat off to him all the time." 

"But I'll bet you didn't tell him about that, did you?" he said. 

"Oh no… I kept that stuffed down very well. I was afraid it would weird him out if I told him how much I thought about him." 

"Yeah, Dude. It might have." 

"The group helped me with that, too. I guess that's when I got to the point of accepting that I really am gay." The damned tears were still rolling down my cheeks as I relived these wrenching times. "Along in there sometime is when I came out to Dad. The guys helped me with that, too. I was so surprised! I guess we all are scared that our parents would just throw us away when they find out, but it wasn't that way with Dad. He hugged me and held me and said that it didn't make any difference to him at all. It was so important for me to hear that he still loved me." 

"I can imagine! How about your mom?" 

"That's been harder. It's one reason that I'm living with my dad and not her. I think she took it harder than he did. She talked about how being gay was so opposite all the stuff she had learned growing up, that it wasn't going to be easy for her to just accept it. Then she got the idea that it's just a phase I'm going through and that I'll grow out of it. Yeah, right! I'm sure glad Dad doesn't think that." 

I continued, "It's really hard when I visit Mom because she's always trying to get me involved with stuff that she thinks will make a man out of me, like introducing me to girls she thinks are nice. Once again, the group helped me to see that I already am a man, and much more of one than she can accept right now because I'm dealing with my shit." Ted's hand had not left my arm. It felt good to have it there -- warm and comforting. 

"Thanks for listening to this, Ted. We just moved here a few days ago and it already feels like I've known you for years," I said. 

"As I said… No sweat, man. That's what buds are for, right?" He squeezed my arm then, which felt even better. 

"So," I continued, "Where was I? Oh yeah… I guess that covers pretty much how I came to know that I'm gay. Now, what else did you want to know?"

"Oh, man! Lots of stuff. Like, um… Shit! I'm embarrassed to ask you this stuff, Dean." It was my turn to put my hand on Ted's as it rested on my arm. I looked into his eyes directly.  

"Could I try to just tell you how I feel? Then, if you have more questions, I can answer them," I suggested. 

"Yeah! That would be great." He was so obviously relieved that I smiled to myself. I couldn't remember when I had ever felt that I had had the upper hand as far as my sexuality was concerned. 

"Well, first off… There's a difference between just messing around and being gay. Messing around means that even though guys play with their dicks, they're not necessarily in love with each other. Even if they're close friends; it's not a romantic kind of love. Messing around can mean that some guys still have the expectation that they'll marry and have kids when they grow up -- they might even have girlfriends at the same time that they're messing around with their buds. To a lot of guys, messing around is just jacking each other off; or, jacking themselves in the same room. However, some guys include sucking and kissing in messing around. The thing that makes the difference is where their head's at -- they're not in love, they're just messing around. They see themselves as eventually falling in love with a girl, marrying her, and having kids." 

"In other words, they're not bonding?" Ted said. 

"Exactly." 

"Okay, I've messed around both with guys and with girls. Some were casual friends and others were closer. So, what's the difference in being gay?" Ted asked. 

"Part of it is like this," I said. "As our group leader explained it, it's not so much what you do, or with whom, but why you do it and how you see yourself. Like, I don't see myself ever partnering with a woman for the rest of my life, but I do see myself partnering that way with a guy. We might even adopt a kid or two. I'd like to be a parent; I like kids. The other part is harder to describe, but I'll try.  

"It's part preference. I'd rather play with penises than with vaginas. But more than that, it's that I need to identify with male sexual characteristics more than with female. Guys' body odors turn me on. Girls' odors don't. I get so intimately involved in cocks, balls, and butts that I think about them a lot of the time. I don't think about girls that way, even though I've been with a couple of girls sexually, got it up, and came. Still, it just wasn't the same excitement as when I've been with boys sexually." 

Ted chewed on this for a while as we sat gazing out through the golden canopy of leaves that surrounded my porch on this early fall day. The sun broke through the clouds to cast a golden shaft of late afternoon light onto my porch. 

Finally, he said, "I guess, to be honest with you, it ultimately doesn't matter whether I'm gay or straight then." 

"Or in-between," I added. 

"Yeah, that too. I've had my flings with boys and girls, just like you. Most of what I'd do is heavy petting with the girls and jacking off together with the guys. Kind of like you, I could come with either one and right now, I can't say whether one excited me more than the other. I do know that each experience was plenty of excitement for me. But, this afternoon when I came walking past your house, the sight of you out there sweating in those itty-bitty shorts went right to my dick. And, I've been at least half-hard ever since. I haven't done a lot of gay stuff, Dean, but I'd sure like it if you could show me and teach me." 

Ted's cock had come out of its skin cave again and was standing up to survey its surroundings. Apparently, my cock had noticed because it stood up to salute its brother. Two thin threads of dick drool glinted in the golden light that flooded the porch just then. 

"I'd love to," I purred. "Let's see if we can take an edge off your need." At that, I got up, breaking my golden thread of pre-cum, and knelt in front of Ted. I took the base of his cock in one hand as my other hand cupped those saggy balls. I swooned in the rush of pubescent crotch odor that invaded my being and propelled me forward. And in no time at all I had welcomed that cock into my moist, warm, oral cavern and begun my tongue massage.  

"Oh!" moaned Ted. "Oh, Dean! I've never felt anything like this." 

I held his dick still with one hand at the base as I backed off enough to give me room to use my lips, tongue, and suction to play with his foreskin and tease his sweet spot. I knew he wouldn't last long, having built up to it with our conversation and I was right. In what seemed like seconds, he bucked his hips forward as he tried to cram every inch of his dick into my mouth. I pulled back to move with him, still playing his foreskin back and forth as I repeatedly swiped his sweet spot with the tip of my tongue. His moans rose and fell in pitch and volume as he neared his point of no return. And then I felt him swell in my mouth. He seemed so huge!  

I gently caressed his scrotum with my free hand as I buried my nose in his fragrant ginger bush, staying as still as I could while undulating my tongue along the entire underside of his wildly pulsing organ. Ted's first shot hit the back of my throat with a strong "splat." I could feel the warm, gamey syrup slide down my throat as its essence mixed with the tart aroma of unwashed pubescent boy. I stilled my tongue as he delivered more semen to my welcoming throat in pulse after pulse. My free hand now cradled his balls in a warm, snug nest. His chest heaved as it worked to supply more air to his body. Glancing up at him, his cock still in my mouth, I could see his tits fully erected, his eyes dilated and unfocused. This was the time that I had to concentrate carefully to stay as still as possible, just keeping him encased in my mouth, so he could move through his period of hypersensitivity.  

His eyes had drifted shut. Good. Soon I would feel him begin to move in me ever so slightly, but not before he convulsed once or twice more in the extreme sensitivity of the moment. I detected the last little trickles of semen on the back of my tongue, followed by a tentative micro-thrust and then another. His tumescence subsided so that I could clasp him more securely in my oral womb. Gently I lowered his balls and left the base of his cock so that with each hand, I could reach up to tweak both of his tits. A sharp intake of breath followed by a low groan of contentment. And finally, a soft snore as he drifted into sleep. 

I'd been through this a time or two before, so I knew what to do. My own urgency had subsided, so that I could wait until later for my release. Gradually, I released his dick from my mouth. At the same time, I reached up under his arms and around his back just under his shoulder blades so that as I scooted my body up more even with his, I could stand and pick him up. Then I carried him gently through my sitting room and into my bedroom to lay him carefully down on my bed so that I could snuggle up next to, even almost on top of him, my hard dick cradled against him, and then drift into slumber as he had.  

Perhaps he was gay, perhaps straight. Regardless, I knew that I had just given him one of the peak sexual experiences of his life. And, we were warm and together, at least for a little while. Afterward, who knew what would happen? All we could do would be to take one moment at a time. This moment had also been one of my peaks.