Date: Tue, 30 May 2000 00:50:47 -0700 From: Curtis Kline Subject: GAY ARCHIVES;'Private Emotion #1-3'(Curtis Kline) {rom,real,BB, teen2} [1!1] -={ Introduction }=- This story is part fiction/fantasy, and part reality. Where the story fluctuates, is noted prominently. Please forgive any spelling mistakes, and I would hope my grammar is understandable. This is my first try at writing an "extended story", or a story that spans several chapters. I would like to build up the romance (if any) instead of going right for sex. If you read the archives for "jerkoff" material, this might not be the best story for you to read. More of my stories may be found at: http://ideweb.hypermart.net/stories.html If you have any suggestions on how to improve this story, please send me a message at: ckline@pa.net Oh, and the usual legal crap applies... if you're under the legal age in your area to view, access, download, look at, store, retrieve or in any other way attempt to jerk off to GAY PORNOGRAPHY OF ANY FORM... please stop now and exit this archive from which you are reading. Otherwise, enjoy my fantasy life... -={ Chapter 1 }=- His name was Mike. All the girls wanted to sleep with him. He was 16, and damn good looking. 6 feet, lean, tan white skin, muscular... the poster-boy for a teen jock. I'm not sure what triggered it, but he had to always make fun of me, or other people. And it was time he learned a lesson. We were in the second to last class of the day when our teacher announced to pair up and work on some stupid equation exercise with radicals and square roots; so Mike paired up with me. We went to a corner and laid on the floor facing each other. Now we always goof around a lot, so naturally, we didn't get anything done on the paper. We wasted about twenty minutes doing nothing but writing obscenities and laughing. Then he took my wrist in his smooth hand and said "I want you to call me." "Why?" I asked. "Just call me," he said. So he proceeded to write his number on my hand, and then wrote "I (heart) Mike." Now the wheels in my mind are starting to spin. Don't get me wrong, my dick was always hard in my pants when I saw Mike. I spent the whole class just trying to watch his jock and see if his dick was hard. He was wearing these black Nike shorts, and oh what I wouldn't give to touch him through his shorts. Anyway, so I called him when I got home... he wasn't there. His brother told me to call back after 5 PM. So I called him at 5:10 and he answered. "Hello?" He asked. "Hi." I said "Hi. Who is this?" Mike asked (as if he didn't know!) "This is Curtis." "Curtis who?" duh.... "Curtis ***** you retard. You told me to call you. You wrote your number on my hand." "Oh... It was just a joke man, I'll see you tomorrow." -- CLICK -- Oh I was pissed. When's the last time some guy you like hangs up on you as part of some cruel joke? I just felt so humiliated and worthless it wasn't funny. So the next day at school, my friends are drawing on my arm. The typical stuff... pink triangle with a rainbow square inside. Oh wait :). Anyway, so I walk into class with it on my hand and I wait for any type of reaction... none. Ok, so maybe he isn't interested. I can deal with that. The night before I wrote a letter to him, explaining how I felt about everything. I placed that letter on his desk right as he walked in. Then my dumb ass teacher kicked me out into the hall for laughing too much and disrupting the class. So while I was in exile I began to think, and began to get very nervous. Had I done the right thing? Would he take my letter seriously. I wouldn't have to wait long. Ten minutes later, before the end of class, mike stepped out into the hall, placed a letter on my desk, and said "you're homework is written there for you." Great, I thought. All my emotion ignored for a stupid homework assignment. I stuck the note in my pocket and was so pissed I just left my class and walked to my next class. I didn't even say goodbye. While I was in my graphics class, I opened up the note. It wasn't homework after all. It was a letter. A very personal letter, nothing that I was expecting: "Curtis, I admire your letter very much. And I was only kidding man. I wish you wouldn't get down on yourself or let alone let me get you down. I might have a lot of friends, but you do too. So count me in Curt, because a) you and I both know how things are gonna be... so lets just cool off because we are friends... we just goof around too much sometimes. So man, sorry if you took it the wrong way. Don't lose your faith. Call me Saturday, maybe we'll go fishing. Then Sunday I want you to come to my church. Take Care, Your Bro in Christ (Mike) PS. Didn't realize I hurt you, sorry for that. PS2. Tanks for letting me know." Wow. Now I began thinking of what this could mean. I counted the hours until Saturday. --------------------------------------------------- ** STORY BECOMES FICTIONAL FROM THIS POINT FORTH ** --------------------------------------------------- It was finally Saturday. Yes, the day every student in America celebrates the vacation from classes. It was also my fishing trip with Mike. Even though I'm not an avid fisher, a chance to bond with him in some way was more than I could ask for, so I put my inhibitions about the sport on the backburner. We found a local park and a deserted stretch of land by the lake. I set my takle box next to his and I started to bait up my hook. "So I guess we don't have that much in common, huh?" I asked, trying to start a conversation. "Oh, I don't know," he said with an evil smile as he casted his line into the peaceful lake. "Hmmmm." I said, pondering what he had said. "I mean, we both *suck*.... at math." he said, with emphasis on *suck*. Great, he's dropping hints... what do I do? "Yeah, I guess you've got that right. That class is pretty *hard*." I did my best to return the hint. "Cool. So what's with all the rainbow stickers on the back of your truck?" He asked pointing to the "fag flags" on my truck. "Oh yeah, like you don't know. It's a symbol for homosexuality. Kinda like a free advertisement. 'Hey I'm gay, look at me', you know?" "Oh, so your gay?" He asked. "Yeah, but I'm pretty sure you already knew that." "You're right, I was just seeing if you would tell me the truth." He said as he started to wind his line in. "You know, I asked you out here today," he said as he placed his fishing rod into the sand of the shore, "because I want to tell you something." "Yes?" I asked, eagerly awaiting his next sentence. "For about two years now, I've done nothing but pick on your for stupid things, just to make myself feel better. It is only now that I realize how bad I have hurt you. I want to apologize for those two years of hell that I put you through." He started to cry. "And no matter what people tell you, please realize that I will always love you. I will try to be here for you whenever you need me, and help carry you through anything. I only hope you can forgive me and do the same things for me." Now I was starting to well up. "You know I will. I would never hurt you." I said choking back the tears. "I too am sorry for not bringing this up with you before." I said as I grabbed his arm lightly. "Come here." I pulled him into my arms and we sat on the bank of the lake and cried in each other's arms. ~~~~~~~~~~ Comments are welcome at ckline@pa.net -={ Chapter 2 }=- As we drove home some two hours later, we were pretty much tired from the emotional outpouring at the lake. He laid down in the passenger seat and I drove us home. 10 minutes into the trip home he surprised me by putting his hand on my leg. I said nothing and continued driving. Then a moment later the hand crept up my leg some more, and again I said nothing. I had to admit I was flattered, but I was not sure what his plan was, or what he was trying to tell me. Well, obviously he was "into" me, I guess you could say. After all, it's not every day a guy puts his hand on your leg. I pulled into the driveway of his house 45 minutes later. "We're here I said." "Already?" He asked, in a disappointed tone. "Yep. I'll get your gear out of the back." I stepped out of my truck into the cool night air. Even for May with this messed up weather system, it was still a brisk 55 degrees out. I popped the window on the truck and removed the fishing gear we had packed that morning. As he slowly climbed out of the car, I met him with the tacklebox and rod. "So, um, do you want to come in or anything?" He asked searching my eyes for an answer. "Uh... yeah, sure Mike. Anything for you." And with that I walked with him to his front door, with him hanging excessively on my shoulder. He was acting like he wanted, or needed something from me. I had no idea how much he had been needing it. I sat the fishing gear on the workbench in the garage, which he had converted to a bedroom. In the middle of the garage/bedroom was a bed, a nightstand, and a TV set. There were two chairs next to each other by the bed, facing the TV. "Curtis, I know we just confessed that we love each other, and would do anything for each other. And I feel that you should know some things about me." He paused, taking in a deep breath. "When I was young, my dad used to abuse me. It was really bad. He would sit on the toilet, and tie my hands behind the toilet so I was forced to stay on my knees with my face in his crotch. Then he would put his dick in my mouth and make me suck him till he came, and then force me to swallow. He did this to me every day since I was five. In fact, he still does. I don't know why I can't bring myself to resist. It's like a habit." He paused to take another deep breath. "Anyway... on the days that I really fucked up: on a test, forgetting a chore, or not doing my homework, he would make me suck him off twice, and then before cumming in my mouth the second time, he would stop, and fuck me while I was tied to the toilet." Silence filled the room as I saw the tears in his eyes and I too began crying. I couldn't think of what to say. Finally, a stereotypical, non-emotional phrase came out of my mouth. "God Mike, that's terrible. I had no idea." And then as I cried some more, I began to speak... "No words could possibly express the love I have for you. If I had to give my life in order to let you live, I would gladly lay it down for you. You are the only true friend I have ever had mike. I need you like I need air, and I mean that. I can't go a day without thinking about you, or seeing you in my dreams, or remembering what we did the past few days. And I know you may not want my love; but that's just tough. My love for you is unconditional, you can't stop me from caring about you. If you ever need anything, I will give you what you need. I want to be the shoulder you cry on, the rock which you stand on, and the arms that you run to for safety. We can do anything together, if we just love each other." Another moment of silence passed while he thought about what I had just said. Tears were now flowing from my eyes like water from a faucet. My words triggered a whole new stream of tears from him as he sat on the bed and hugged me. I felt so free, like a weight had been lifted. It's a strange feeling, but I swear I will never forget it. -={ Chapter 3 }=- ---------------------- * Story becomes real * ---------------------- That night when I got home, I sat down at the computer, and the phone rang. Me: "Hello?" Mike: "Hey Curt... do you want to do something tonight?" Me: "Um... sure. Like what?" Mike: "I don't know... see a movie maybe?" Me: "Ok... where?" Mike: "I don't care... the 10 or 16. Just find out what's playing and call me back." Me: "Ok... hey. what do you want to see?" Mike: "I don't care... just call me back with showing info." ~~LATER~~ Me: "Well, *reading off movie titles*, but nothing major." Mike: "Well, we can just see what's showing. You wanna pick me up?" Me: "Yeah, ok. I'll be over in about five minutes." So that night we went to the movies. We went to see an R rated feature, and thanks to our stupid MPAA, you're supposed to be 17 or older / accompanied by an adult/legal guardian. Well, luckily we didn't get carded. The movie didn't start for another 45 minutes, so we wasted some cash playing games. I kicked his ass one round in Mortal Combat, but he retaliated the other two. Finally the movie was starting. He chose the seats... very last row of the theatre, with me against the wall and him in the very next seat beside me. Right away a flag went up alerting my overactive gay-dar. I swear throughout the whole movie, his leg was touching mine at one point or another. One time, he had his leg right next to mine, and I pressed back against him, and he held it there... A few minutes later, he pressed back against my leg. I felt like I was in some movie that I didn't want to end. These subliminal hints of intimacy triggered my brain into imagining him turning to me and kissing me on the lips to see my reaction. Oh God how I longed for that moment. I can still smell his cologne and I would die for another night with him. He says he wants to do this again... at LEAST once a week. Another clue? Maybe. Or maybe I am so desperate for love and affection that I will never have a friendship because every time someone shows affection, I can only turn it into a sexual advance. Why can't I be a normal straight male for once? I just want to have a guy for a friend and not expect it to turn sexual when he begins to like me for a friend. Oh God, what have I gotten myself into. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Comments are welcome at ckline@pa.net I hope you enjoyed the first three chapters. Stay tuned for a later installment.