Self-portrait of a teenage boy

A Visitor in the Night

by Alan Dwight

I stood sweating a little in the steamy bathroom. That shower had felt so good. I love showers in the morning. I loved to stand in water so hot I can barely stand it and let it slowly wake me up. I hadn’t gotten out until my mother called for the third time and my brother yelled that he had to get into the bathroom.

But I was in no hurry; not for him anyway. I took my bath towel, wiped off the full-length mirror and stood gazing at my pitiful self ‒ my scrawny chest, my crotch with no hair and a little dick, my too-high hairline; my awful freckles. I’m ugly, I thought. Weak and ugly. I was barely 5 feet tall, and all the other boys in my grade were bigger than I was. I hated my body. In fact, I was so insecure about my body that, even when I went to the beach, I didn’t take my shirt off. And I hated other things about myself. It was extremely painful and awkward for me to make eye contact with people; I didn’t trust people easily; I daydreamed a lot and I worried way too much; I was flamboyant. So I knew I was weird. In addition, although I had no idea why, I liked looking at boys in the shower and the middle school dressing room. Their dicks were so much bigger than mine. Unlike me, they had begun to have hair down there. I liked seeing their cute little bums in slim-fitting jeans and their chests beginning to fill out their tight T-shirts. Why couldn’t I be like one of them? Why did I have to be weak and scrawny and weird?

Sighing, I dried myself, wrapped the towel around me although I really had nothing at all to hide, and went into my bedroom. I picked out a Hello Kitty T-shirt and a pair of jeans. I loved Hello Kitty and it hurt my feelings when people thought it was childish and stupid. After I dressed, I thought, no, I’ll just get crap at school for this shirt, so I put on a simple lavender one instead. Then I raced downstairs for breakfast, knowing that if I was late for the bus, Mum would be mad.

“Hi, Jason,” my brother snickered at me. “Aren’t you pretty this morning.” I was furious. Doug was older than I was, and he was everything I was not. He was a budding jock, already on the high school wrestling team which had begun to practice a week before school opened. He was bigger than I was; he was stronger than I was; he was popular and I definitely was not. In seventh grade I hadn’t had one friend in the school. The only friend I had was Carl, a boy I had known in elementary school. When I went to middle school, Carl went to a different school across town, so I could only see him on weekends.

Dad used to say, “Why can’t you be more like Doug?” He was the first one to call me “a freak.” He used to threaten to hit me to make me tougher and occasionally, when he had been drinking, he did. I always wished I could have a normal relationship with him like my brother did. I wished I could have him there when I needed advice or just to talk, or even just to sit together in a totally relaxed and comfortable way. I missed having that and I envied my brother. Sometimes I kinda fooled myself and looked at Dad, telling myself that he loved me and that his eyes showed nothing but pure love and pride. Deep down of course I knew that he didn’t love me, but I guess it didn’t hurt to dream.

The only way I had Doug beaten was that I was smarter than he was, even though that didn’t show up much in school. He hated that about me, of course, and he teased me constantly about the way I looked, the way I moved, my unchanged voice, my love of art, my hatred of sports.

I ate my breakfast quickly, gulping down the last of the orange juice. I grabbed my lunch and my backpack and raced out to the corner just in time to get on one of the city busses. This was, after all, the first day of my eighth-grade year, and it would be humiliating to be brought to school by my mother.

There were not many seats open on the bus, so I sat on the edge of one next to a boy I didn’t know. He pulled as far away from me as he could. What’s the matter with him? I wondered. Does he think he’ll catch some awful disease from me?

At school, as we got off the bus, all the kids went into the building in little groups. I went in alone. The middle school was in the same building as the high school, but we were supposed to be sort of separate. I found my locker, put in my lunch and my backpack, taking out only the things I would need for the first few periods.

I sucked at school, even though I knew I was smart. I never volunteered and I daydreamed a lot, so when I was called on, I usually didn’t know what the teacher was talking about. The only subject I loved was art. It was an outlet for me, a class where I could be myself and I knew nobody would judge me.

Walking into my classroom, I took a seat at the back, as I usually did. Nobody spoke to me, and I didn’t speak to anybody. I looked around thinking, sure enough, I’m the shrimp of the class. When the teacher took attendance and called my name, I mumbled “here” as the other kids tittered. The teacher looked a bit surprised but went on with the attendance.

The day began badly and went downhill from there. Nobody spoke to me; nobody even acknowledged that I existed. I sat at a lunch table with some other boys, but they never looked at me or spoke to me. Gym was the only place where anybody noticed me. As I was getting dressed, one of the boys near me said, “Why are you putting on a jock strap? You’ve got nothing to protect.” Of course, all the others laughed. As usual, I was the last one picked for a team and every time I touched the ball everybody on my team groaned.

At the end of the day, I fled out the door to the bus stop as quickly as I could, grabbing a seat in the back, and riding home alone. When I went into the house, Mum asked, “So, how was your first day?”

“As awful as usual!” I shot back before running up the stairs to my room and slamming the door.

Towards the end of summer vacation, Doug and I had to have the mandatory physicals. We didn’t have a regular doctor so we had to go to the NHS emergency room for the physical. There we had to wait for hours while the doctors took the real emergency cases. Finally the doctor took my brother. When my brother came out he was smiling, saying that the doctor told him he was in great shape. Then I went in.

Following his orders, I stripped down to my underwear. First he weighed and measured me, grunting a little at the results. Then he asked, “You’re Doug’s brother?” I nodded. “Humph,” he said and had me climb up on the table. He did all the usual poking and prodding. Then he had me get up, pull down my underwear and bend over the table. That was always the most embarrassing part of the physical. Putting on a glove he stuck a finger up my ass and grunted again. He told me to stand up and turn around. I did. He took hold of my balls and told me to turn my head and cough. I did. Then I turned the other way and coughed again.

“OK, Jason,” he said, “you can put your clothes back on but stay here. I need to get your mother. Soon he came back with Mum, who looked a little worried. “Mrs. Martin,” he said to her. “I’m concerned about your son. According to his records he hasn’t gained an inch in two years and he’s actually lost a little weight. I think we need to do some tests to see what’s going on.”

Anxiously she asked, “What could be the problem?”

“I won’t know until we’ve done the tests,” he replied. Then he had a nurse come in to take some blood specimens. I asked if I could go to the bathroom before she did. She looked a little impatient but showed me where the bathroom was. The truth is needles scare me. The last time somebody stuck me with a needle I pissed in my pants, so going to the bathroom was really self-defense. When she had taken several tubes of blood, to the point where I wondered if I had any left, Mum, Doug, and I went home.

Since we were still on vacation, my friend Carl was waiting for me, and we spent the rest of the day together. We went to a horror film and laughed through the whole thing. Then we got ice cream before we went home. Sometimes Carl spent a night at my house and sometimes I spent one at his, but we hadn’t made any arrangements for that weekend.

At dinner that night Dad asked Mum about the doctor’s reports. She told him about Doug and then about me. My dad snorted and said, “He just needs to build himself up. He needs to play sports; he needs to do exercises; he needs to eat more. How’s he going to be a man if he keeps this up?” I was embarrassed and angry. Dad always talked about me like that, as though I wasn’t even in the room. He thought Doug was the beginning and end of the world. Doug was a jock! Doug was tough! Doug was big and healthy!

Disgusted, I excused myself from the table and ran to my room.

The second school week was again a disaster. Oh, I got by in my classes, although I never volunteered to speak. My homework was okay and I wrote a short paper for English which got a B- on it. But everyone continued to ignore me and occasionally laugh at me when there was no teacher around.

The next Saturday, Mum and I returned to the hospital to find out the results of my tests. At first the doctor wanted to talk to my mother without me, but I insisted that, since this was about me, I had a right to be present. So we went into his office together and sat down.

“Jason’s problem,” the doctor said, “is that his body is producing almost no testosterone.” I knew from science classes what testosterone was, and I knew it was what makes boys grow and mature and all those other things which are too embarrassing to talk about with parents.

“Oh, goodness!” Mum exclaimed. “Does that mean that he won’t ever mature?”

I was growing redder by the minute and kinda wishing I had stayed in the waiting room after all, but I really wanted to know what was going on with me.

“No,” the doctor replied. “We can give him a testosterone shot once a month and in a while he’ll begin to mature like other boys.” My mum gave her consent, and while the doctor ordered the shot, I went to the bathroom again.

My mother didn’t know that I knew what testosterone was, so on the way home she said, “Isn’t that nice. All you have to do is get some vitamins once a month and you’ll be fine.”

Sure Mum, I thought. I’ll probably have to take those shots for the rest of my damned life.

That night, again at dinner, Mum told Dad what the doctor had said. Dad snorted and said, “So he’s a freak. He’d better man up pretty damn soon.”

Again I left the table, this time in tears. As I lay on my bed crying, I wondered, am I really a freak? Is that what’s wrong with me? Maybe I should just run away and join a circus. In my mind I could hear the barker at the circus calling, “Step right up, folks. See the 89-year-old man who doesn’t look a day over twelve.”


If school didn’t get any worse for a while, it certainly didn’t get any better. Sometimes when I sat at a lunch table the other kids got up and left. I finally began eating my lunch in the restroom where I could be alone. While sitting on a toilet and eating, I grew very angry at the other kids. Sure I knew I was different, a freak, but didn’t they realize that I had feelings, that I wanted friends, that I was terribly lonely? Obviously they didn’t care.

Most of the time I wore a hoodie, I guess because I wanted to hide myself as much as I could. In classes, some of the teachers asked me to take it off while others didn’t seem to mind.

The worst class was math. My mum told me I was smart and I usually did okay in my other classes, but I was certainly not math-smart. Half the time I didn’t even know what the teacher was talking about. We were beginning to do some algebra stuff and the other kids caught on right away. I just couldn’t really grasp variables, and when we were told to “solve for x” I had no idea what to do. Usually I just guessed and, of course, got it wrong.

I suppose my best class except for art was English as long as we weren’t talking about grammar. Oh sure, I knew there were nouns and verbs and adjectives and adverbs, but I had a hard time telling them apart. I mean like we were told that a noun is “a person, place, or thing,” but then the teacher said that “love” could be a noun. How? Love isn’t a person, place, or thing. But then, it could also be a verb. That’s confusing!

But I did like to read, and I usually did okay with literature. We began the year with A Tale of Two Cities, by Dickens. I suppose it’s a great book but a lot of the time it didn’t make much sense to me. Our teacher was little, even shorter than me, and she strutted around the front of the room reading passages of the book to us. When the story was supposed to be dramatic and she emoted, we all got the giggles, which, of course, she didn’t appreciate.

I enjoyed writing, but only for myself. When I was given a topic to write on in school, I usually froze. At home I kept a daily journal, although of course I never let anybody else read it. Usually I wrote about the awful things that had happened that day or about how I was feeling. Every once in a while, I spotted a boy who looked pretty hot to me and I wrote about him, fantasizing about what we could do together. I wished one of those boys would talk to me, but there was no way I could get up the courage to start talking to them.

Speaking of hot, my social studies teacher was pretty hot. He was young, cute, funny, and friendly. He had a great build. His black, wavy hair really set off his beautiful grey eyes, and he had about the sexiest smile I’d ever seen. Sometimes I wished I could talk to him and tell him my problems because I thought he’d understand, but of course I was too chicken to do it.

Then, one day, I thought my time had come. He asked me to stay after class because he wanted to talk to me about something. When the rest of the class had left, the teacher handed a note to me. I took it with my heart pounding and read it. It said, “I love you. Please make love to me and I promise I won’t tell anyone.” It was signed with my name and it had little hearts all over it. Oh sure, someone had gone to the trouble of making the handwriting look sorta like mine, but it wasn’t mine. I was so embarrassed that I cried, and I swore to him that I didn’t write it, but he said he had to take it to the principal. She called my parents, and nobody ever believed that I didn’t write that note!

About a month after school began, I noticed a high school guy in the hallways. I didn’t think much about it at first except to realize that he was a hunk. As the days went by, I saw him more and more. I heard one of the kids call him Ryan, but I didn’t know his last name.

Another funny thing began happening. Notes began to be shoved through the ventilating slits in my locker. I thought they were probably from my stupid brother Doug and his friends. At first they just said things like, “Hi!” or “Hello there!” After a while I realized that, every time I found one, Ryan was lurking somewhere around. Then the notes began to get more personal. They’d say things like “You’re cute,” or, “You’re really beautiful,” or “You have great hair.” This was really freaking me out. I’d read a note and look around. If Ryan was there, he’d just smile and then walk away. What the hell does he want? I wondered.

Finally, one day there was a note that said, “Would you go to the park with me?” I could feel my heart beating as I turned around. There he was. “Would you?” he asked.

“M-a-y-b-e,” I said, slowly drawing the word out.

I guess he took that as a yes, because he said, “Cool! Meet me at the park after school.”

Shit, I thought. What have I gotten into? What does he want?

I couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the day. Actually, I wasn’t very good at concentrating anyway, but right then, every time I tried to think about anything my mind wandered back to Ryan. He was older than I was. Why would he want anything to do with me? I mean, I wasn’t 14 yet and he was probably 16 or so.

Somehow I made it through social studies and math. P.E. was a disaster. I couldn’t do anything right and the other boys got disgusted with me. “Freak!” one of them yelled. “You don’t even belong in this class.” In the locker room after P.E. they made me face the corner as I showered and dressed because they said they didn’t even want to look at me.

At the end of the day I left the school and walked the couple of blocks to the park. By that time my heart was doing triple back flips. The park was grassy with paved walks going through it. There were maple trees and oak trees and other plantings. It really was a pretty place. I saw Ryan sitting on a bench. When I got close, he stood up, smiled, and said, “Hi.”

Standing near him, I could see that he was at least a foot taller than I was. “Hi,” I answered, my eyes downcast.

“Let’s go farther in where there aren’t so many people.” We walked into the park until Ryan flopped down on the grass, laying his backpack beside him. I dropped my backpack, lay down too on my tummy, and propped myself up on my elbows. I didn’t look at him, but I could feel him looking at me.

He was silent for a while, and then he said, “I think you’re the cutest kid in the school.”

I could feel myself blushing furiously.

“Can you look at me?” he asked. I looked up. He was very close. I took in his gorgeous long blond hair, his green eyes, his beautiful lips. Unlike some teenage boys he didn’t have a bit of acne. His skin was smooth and golden. On his right cheek he had a small mole, which I found entrancing. I looked down again.

“Not going to talk?” he asked.

I was still terribly embarrassed. “Don’t have anything to say,” I mumbled.

“OK, then I’ll talk.” So as I lay there, pulling up little bits of grass and sticking them in my mouth before spitting them out again, he began to ramble on about school, and football, but mostly he told really corny jokes. I guess he was trying to make me feel at ease and after a while I began to relax a little. Finally he said, “I have to get home. Can we do this again?”

I nodded.

He said, “Great, let’s meet here again tomorrow.”

Again I nodded, got up from the grass, brushed myself off, and headed for home. I decided to walk. After all, it was only about a mile and a half, and I wanted some time to think.

When I got home and Mum asked me where I’d been, I just said, “Talking with a friend in the park.”

That night I wrote about Ryan in my journal.

The next day school dragged by even more than usual.

Arriving at the park, I saw Ryan waiting on the same bench. He didn’t say anything, but he stood up, put an arm around my shoulder, and began walking. At first I pulled away a little. After all, I couldn’t remember the last time anybody had really touched me like that. Certainly not anybody in my family. But I decided I liked it, so I left his arm there until we got to our spot and flopped again on the grass. This time Ryan lay on his back.

“Jason,” he said, “why won’t you talk to me?”

I wondered how he knew my name. I thought for a minute before answering quietly, “I guess I’m just shy.”

“You know, I’ve never seen you talk to anybody in school. Do you have friends?”

I could feel tears beginning to come, but I was dammed if I was going to cry. “I have just one, but he goes to Pope John Paul.”

“What’s his name?”

“Carl.” I told him just a little about how Carl and I had met when we were little kids in elementary school. Then I said, “You have lots of friends. I see you with them all the time.”

“I suppose I do. I’ve never really thought about it. But it’s okay to be shy, you know.”

I nodded.

“Is there anything you want to talk about?”

I shook my head.

“Well then, I guess I’ll have to tell you some more jokes,” and he did.

When we left, he asked if we could meet the next day, but I told him I was meeting Carl. He asked if he could meet Carl. “Someday,” I answered. I wasn’t sure how I would feel about the two of them meeting. What if Ryan stole Carl away from me? Carl was the only friend I had.

On Friday there was a note in my locker which said, “Meet me at the park after school.” I looked around for Ryan but he was nowhere to be seen.

Again in the park, Ryan asked, “How are you?”

“Rotten, as usual.”


“Because all the kids treat me like I’m not even there, and I’m having trouble in some of my classes.”

“Do they say anything to you at all?”

I told him about what had happened in P.E. and how they made me face the corner.

“Shit!” he exclaimed. “That’s so mean.”

We were quiet for a few minutes before I finally got up the courage to ask, “Ryan, why do you want to spend time with me?”

“Because I like you and I think you’re cute.”

“But I’ve hardly even spoken to you. How do you know you like me?”

“I don’t really know. I just know that, the first time I saw you, I thought, there’s a kid I’d like to get to know.”

“I don’t get that at all. You say I’m cute, but I’m not. I’m puny and I’m ugly.”

“You are not!” he exclaimed. “You’re quite beautiful, really. I love your hair, and your freckles really turn me on.”

“My freckles? I hate them!”

“Well, start loving them, because I do.”

I giggled a little and he moved over so we were touching. He turned towards me, put his arm around me, and told me to face him. So I did. There was his wonderful face, about six inches from mine. I could feel his warm breath on my face. My heart was galloping, and I wondered if he could feel it. Worse, I was beginning to get hard, and I certainly didn’t want him to feel that! He just looked at me for a long while.

“You know, one reason I like you is because you’re different and you’re not trying to be just like all the other kids.”

“I couldn’t if I tried. I wish I could. I wish I was a jock, and really smart, and really good looking, and built like a Greek god.”

“I like you just the way you are.”

“Well, you’re the only person in the world besides Carl who does.”

“So, we have to do something about that. At least we need to get you so that you like yourself. Is there anything at all you think you’re good at?”

I thought before confessing my one real passion. “Art.”

“Oh? Well, you’ve got me beat there. Could I see some of your work sometime?”

I thought a moment and then nodded.

“Great! Could you bring some on Monday?”

I nodded again.

So we would meet again on Monday and I’d have to show him something I’d done. I went home wondering what I should show him. That night I lay awake thinking about him. I couldn’t get him out of my thoughts. He was so good looking. I wondered if he was gay, and I thought maybe he was, but he hadn’t said so. Finally, I fell asleep and I dreamt about him all night.


I was both looking forward to Monday and dreading it. Of course, I wasn’t thinking about school but about meeting with Ryan after school. I was afraid he wouldn’t like my pictures.

At the end of school, I retrieved the sketches I had chosen from my locker and began walking the short distance to the park. As I walked, I grew increasingly nervous. I hadn’t ever showed my art to anybody except my teacher and my mother. Would he like them? What if he didn’t? What if he laughed at them? After all, I didn’t know him very well.

At the park, Ryan immediately asked, “Did you bring your artwork?”

“Just some sketches.” I guess I was trying to make them seem as unimportant to me as possible, but really, this was a big deal for me.

“I can’t wait to see them.”

As I followed him into the park, I was shaking and I broke out in a cold sweat. My heart began to rise in my throat and I started to feel nauseous. Oh no! I thought. I can’t throw up! Then he’d know what a loser I really am!!! I tried to swallow but my mouth was too dry.

Finally we arrived at our spot. “Okay,” he said, “let’s see them.” Hesitantly I took them out of my backpack and handed them to him. My heart was pounding and I wondered if he could hear it. I could feel the gorge rising in my throat. He took them and looked at each one carefully without saying a word. Oh shit, I thought, he doesn’t like them.

Finally he looked up at me with a big smile and said, “These are terrific. You’re a real artist!”

The gorge receded into my stomach and my heart slowly went back into my chest. “They’re only sketches,” I muttered, trying to sound modest but secretly pleased.

“If they’re only sketches, I’d love to see your other work. Why didn’t you bring it?”

“Well, most of it’s too big to lug to school and stash in my locker for the day. I wouldn’t really have any place at school to keep it.”

“Okay, so we’ll have to go to your house soon so you can show me.”

Oh, oh, I thought. What will Mum think?

Ryan talked for a long time while I mostly listened. First he asked me more about my art, then he talked about his sports interests. Finally he looked at me very seriously and asked, “Are other kids still giving you a hard time?”

I nodded and told him a little about the comments and about eating in the bathroom.

He was really angry. “I need to think what to do,” he said. “It’s not right for them to do that.”

At home I told Mum I had a new friend, Ryan, and I asked if he could come over after school one day.

Her first question was, “Is he your age?”

“No, he’s in tenth grade.”

“Then how did you meet him?”

I couldn’t very well tell her about the notes and everything, so I just said, “We ran into each other in the hall one day and we got talking. He wanted to see my artwork.”

Finally she said he could come but only when she was home, so we agreed he would come with me on Thursday when she had a short day at work.

Then I realized I had another problem. What would Doug think about this friendship with an older boy? With a sigh I decided that we’d just have to see what happened.

In the park the next day as we were talking quietly, three boys from the eighth grade came by. “Oh ho, looks like Jason’s got a friend,” laughed Tim. Want to introduce us?”

“Not really,” I said.

But he wouldn’t take a hint. “Is he a…boyfriend?” Tim asked, slyly emphasizing and drawing out the last word.

“Of course not. We’re just friends.” The boys laughed and went on.

“I’m not your boyfriend?” asked Ryan.

“Shit. I don’t know. I’m so confused. You’re a boy and you’re my friend, but if they thought we were boyfriends I’d never hear the end of it at school.”

He nodded and we went on to other things.

But in the morning it was clear that it hadn’t mattered what I had said. As soon as I got to school and Tim saw me, he announced in a loud, sing-song voice, “Oh, here’s Jason. Everybody, Jason’s got a boyfriend!”

I was really pissed off and I’m sure I blushed furiously, but I walked on without commenting. All day long I got snickers and little snide comments. When I told Ryan about it, he just said, “Well, if you don’t react, that’ll soon pass.” I didn’t think it would, but I didn’t say so.

The next day, Thursday, I was still getting the looks and the comments, and I was still really furious. I had arranged to meet Ryan at my locker at the end of the day so we could go to the bus together, but as I was leaving English at the end of the last period, three boys grabbed me and dragged me down the hall. At my locker Tim ordered, “Open it.” I unlocked it reluctantly, and before I could do anything, the boys shoved me into the locker, slammed it shut, and locked it.

“Let me out!” I yelled, but all I heard was laughter fading down the hall.

I was still yelling a few minutes later when I finally heard Ryan call, “Jason? Where are you?”

“Some shits locked me in my locker!” I yelled.

“What’s your combination?” I told him and within a minute or two he had me out, but when we got to the bus stop, my bus had already gone and there wouldn’t be another for a while, so we decided to walk to my house.

I could tell that Ryan thought that my being locked in a locker was kind of funny, but at the same time he was really angry about the boys ganging up on me. “We’ve got to find a way to stop this!” he said.

When we got to my house, I introduced Ryan to my mum. Thankfully, Doug wasn’t home yet. Mum told me to bring the pictures to the kitchen where I could spread them out on the table. I laid them on the table and Ryan looked at them carefully, again without saying anything and again my heart was in my throat. Finally he said, “You know what? You’re brilliant! I can’t believe these were done by a fourteen-year-old.” I was glowing with pride, and even my mum seemed pleased.

While we had some milk and cookies, she grilled Ryan about everything from how old he was to what his interests were. She even had the gall to ask him why he was friends with a middle school kid.

Ryan didn’t bat an eye. I had told him what I had said to Mum about us just running into each other in the hall, so he said, “Well, Mrs. Marks, we just ran into each other, literally. I guess neither one of us was paying attention to where we were going, and as I turned a corner, we ran into each other. We both laughed, picked up the books we had dropped, and introduced ourselves. So then we agreed to get together after school to talk. And we did. I guess we liked each other, so we were just having a good time.”

At that point, Doug came in. When I started to introduce him to Ryan, he interrupted me and said, “I know him. He’s a jock.” Then he turned to Ryan and muttered something about “hanging around with freaky little boys.” Clearly he had heard the school rumors about me and Ryan, but fortunately he didn’t say anything ‒ until later.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a minute before Ryan said, “Well, I’d better get home.” He turned and went out the door.

After he left, Mum said she wasn’t happy with me spending time with older boys, but she wouldn’t say why.

When I asked why, Doug volunteered, “I’ll tell you why. She’s afraid he’ll try to rape you.” He turned to Mum. “Ryan and Jason are boyfriends according to the rumors at school.” Trust Doug to open his big fat mouth.

Furiously I burst out, “He wouldn’t ever try to do that and even if he did, I wouldn’t let him and I like him and I’m gonna go on spending time with him!” And I stormed into my room and slammed my door.

There was an ominous silence at our dinner table that night. Finally, my dad said, “I understand you have a friend who’s older than you. Is that right?” I nodded, fearing where this was heading. “Douglas says that you are boyfriends.”

I felt my anger rising but I was able to answer calmly, “No. We’re boys and we’re friends but we’re not boyfriends.”

He looked at me as though he didn’t believe me. It was a look I often got from him. “Well, whatever you are, you are not to go anywhere with him that’s not in public. Do you understand?”

I nodded miserably, silently cursing Doug. Why doesn’t he mind his own fucking business? I thought.

A few days later when I was in the restroom and standing in front of the toilet peeing, I was grabbed from behind. Somebody shoved the back of my head while another punched me in the stomach. As I bent down in pain, the hands on my head pushed down, while somebody said, “Let’s see if he’ll drink his own piss.” The next thing I knew, my head was forced into the toilet water and held there. “Drink,” the voice said. I was running out of breath so finally I had to. I drank and swallowed. There was a lot of laughter as somebody flushed the toilet with my head still in it.

By the time I looked up, everybody was gone. I vomited painfully into the toilet three times before I went to the sink and tried to wash my mouth out. But no matter how much I rinsed it, I could still taste that disgusting piss along with the vomit. I nearly threw up again. I was terrified that my head smelled of piss so I washed myself off as well as I could and went late to class.

The teacher asked where I’d been. I just said, “In the restroom.” There were snickers and outright laughs behind me. Totally embarrassed, I opened my book and pretended to read, but I couldn’t get rid of the taste and I couldn’t think about anything else. When I told Ryan about it after school, he asked who did it, but I hadn’t actually seen them, so he couldn’t do anything about it.

At the end of classes a few days later, as I was leaving the building, a bunch of the jocks were standing by the gate. When I tried passing, they blocked me. Then they started shoving me around among them and tossing my backpack to each other as if it was a ball. Other kids just stood there watching and laughing. At that moment Ryan showed up and saw what was happening. He walked up to me. He held me close and kissed me right there in front of all of them. I thought, oh God, now they’ll just tease me more. Is he really gay? When he pulled back, he looked around and said, "Next time, you shits, pick on someone your own size." I could see they were surprised and really irritated. I thought, they're gonna do something to him, but they never did. They knew he played football and lifted weights and they weren’t about to fool with him.


Okay, so Ryan had kissed me. And yes, it felt good. But I was really worried a lot about what that meant. I was pretty sure that Ryan was gay, but was I? And how did I feel about that? I just couldn’t decide, so as I said, I worried a lot. I felt like hiding because I realized that I was having feelings for Ryan and I believed everyone knew. That scared me. It made me think about being gay, which I didn’t want to be, but also about liking the kiss and liking Ryan. I didn’t know how I felt about this, or how I was supposed to deal with it.

Ryan kept wanting to see me, and I really wanted to see him, but I was scared and mad at myself, so I started to avoid him whenever I could. I was making excuses to not hang out after school. I’d say I had to study for an exam, or I had lots of homework, or my parents wanted me home.

One Sunday my parents took me to church with them. The preacher was talking about how wrong homosexuality was and how the church could help those who had lost their way and were in need of help finding the right path back to Jesus. That made me even more confused and scared and lost. I didn’t want to go to hell, and the preacher made it sound as though that’s where homosexuals were heading.

But Ryan never stopped trying to contact me. After that church service, when he kept texting me again and again, the anger and confusion I felt became worse than ever.

One day, when he was at my locker, I just kinda lost it and I yelled at him, “Go away! Leave me alone! I never want to hang out with you again. I AM NOT GAY!”

He looked startled and hurt, but he didn’t say anything. He just shrugged his shoulders and walked away. There were tears in my eyes, but I managed to control them until I got home and was in my bedroom. Then I burst out crying. I don’t know how long I cried but it seemed like forever. I only had two friends in the world, and I had just totally insulted one of them, driving him away.

I was miserable. Part of me felt like I loved Ryan and the other part of me felt like I hated what he was and I feared what I might be. And of course, all of me hated myself.

Ryan still loitered around my locker in the hall, but I tried to ignore him. He still sent notes, but I tore them up right there while he was watching. Sometimes he looked so sad it broke my heart, but what could I do?

Finally one day I as was walking home, still trying to solve my problem I saw him on my front steps waiting for me.

“Jason,” he said, “we need to talk.”

I didn’t say anything. I just sat down on the steps with a space between us.

“Jason, please tell me what’s wrong.”

I didn’t answer.

“What did I do?”

I just sat there, feeling more and more miserable.

“Was it the kiss?”

No answer.

“I only did that to show the other kids I cared about you and would be protecting you.”

I still didn’t answer. I was so ashamed of myself and my feelings and of what I was doing to him. Tears were flowing down my cheeks. Very slowly he moved over and kissed me once again. I was numb, but when I realized what was happening, I pushed him away and ran inside.

I was angry at Ryan for making me face myself and my uncertainties, and I was too immature to tell him why I was acting like I was. I was angry at myself for what I was doing to him. I felt terribly guilty. After all, here was this wonderful guy who was really nice to me, who maybe even loved me, and I was treating him like shit. He didn’t deserve that. I knew it, but I still couldn’t think what to do.

For days I wrestled with my thoughts. I hated the idea that I was gay, and I was more and more beginning to believe that I really was. I just couldn’t face myself. And I couldn’t face Ryan because of my own guilt.

I finally decided I needed someone to help me sort out my feelings. It certainly couldn’t be anybody in my family. There was no teacher who I felt would understand or I could trust. I was also sure I couldn’t talk about it with Carl. So that left Ryan. Besides, Ryan deserved at least an explanation and an apology.

So I screwed up my courage and texted him, saying that I was ready to talk. He texted back, “Let’s meet at the park.”

After school I walked nervously to the park. I had that old familiar feeling of my heart in my throat hammering loudly and I didn’t have the foggiest idea what I was going to say. But when I arrived, I found I really didn’t have to say anything. The minute I saw him I couldn’t hold myself in and I just started crying. I cried and I cried. He just sat there next to me holding me until I stopped and I never, ever, had felt better than I did right then. He didn’t even have to say anything to make me feel better. Just being there with me and holding me helped me so much.

When we started talking, I told him about my feelings and about what my family thought of the whole gay thing. I told him I just took it out on him because he was so happy and comfortable and honest with himself, but I wasn’t and I was scared. I so wanted to be like him ‒ out, proud, and happy with who he was! But I couldn’t because I didn’t know if I was gay, and if I was, I wasn’t happy about it. I didn’t want to be gay!!!!

He just held me. He didn’t try to kiss me or anything, he just held me close until I finally stopped talking.

After that, we sat in silence. He dried my eyes with his handkerchief and, with his arm around me, we simply sat. Finally he said, “Jason, I’m so sorry I rushed you the way I did. I had no idea you were feeling this way. To me you were and are a wonderful, funny, beautiful boy, and I care a hell of a lot about you.

“You said you don’t want to be gay, but what if you are? It’s not something we can change about ourselves. I don’t especially want to be gay ̶ it causes a lot of complications in my life. But I am and I’m proud of who I am, so that’s the way it is. Whether you’re gay or not, we need to work on your self-image, which seems to be really awful. Will you let me help you with that?”

I nodded and looked up at him, smiling. “Thanks for understanding,” I said quietly. “I suppose in time I’ll have to decide for myself whether or not I’m gay. I just need more time.”

He nodded, we stood, he hugged me again, and then we walked out of the park. Later I realized that I had never really apologized to him, but I think he got the message.

After that, when we saw each other in school, we never acted like we were more than friends, except that the eye contact meant more than accidental contact almost all the time. Whenever we made that eye contact, I’d feel like I couldn’t breathe, like all the air was suddenly sucked out of me. It scared me how I could feel so transparent and vulnerable around him. I felt naked and exposed, like anyone could see everything right through me, even the thoughts that I’d never, ever said out loud!

From that time on, every day and every night, Ryan made sure to tell me that I was beautiful, smart, and cute. He said that I had a gorgeous smile, and that my eyes were so pretty, my hair was so soft, my giggles were adorable, and my personality was amazing. Of course, I didn’t believe him, but as he kept repeating these things and sometimes making me repeat them back to him, I began to feel that, at least in his eyes, I was what he said, and I blushed.

We didn’t go any farther in our relationship for a long time ‒ just hugging and being comfortable with each other. We did do things together. Sometimes we went to a movie, or hung around the mall, or had ice cream or sodas together. It was so wonderful having a real friend and being able to tell him anything without his being shocked or disappointed or offended.

Something happened which was a surprise, but which really helped later on. One day my mum was in the market and she recognized Ryan’s mum. She called to her and they greeted each other like long lost buddies. It turned out that they had been roommates in college and neither one knew that the other was living in town. After that, Mum was less anxious when I went to Ryan’s house. In fact, one time the four of us all got together for ice cream after school. It was funny listening to them talk about a time together long before we were even born. What a coincidence it was that they knew each other.

When Ryan was talking about being gay one day, he said, “You know, it’s okay to be gay. You shouldn’t care what people say. It’s not disgusting or anything like that. As long as we have each other, who needs other people? They can go on hating us, but we won’t care because they don’t matter to us.”

By then I was ready to scream it out to the world that I was gay and I was in love with Ryan! I’d, little by little, finally begun to feel good about myself.

I decided to tell Ryan the next time we were in the park. We were so comfortable together by now that we didn’t really need to talk. We sat there silently for quite a while before I said, very quietly, “Ryan, I’m gay.” And then I began crying. Not sobbing, just silent tears running down my face.

Ryan didn’t say anything. He just put his arms around me and held me real close. I even became aware that both of us were getting hard, but I didn’t care. I just liked him holding me.

Finally I asked him, “Are you out to your mum?”

He nodded and answered, “Yeah, but I think she already had it figured out.”

“How did you tell her?”

“I just said I had something important I had to tell her and then I sort of blurted it out. I didn’t dare look at her, but she reached over and touched my hand. She said it was all right and she loved me and I should be proud of who I was. That was pretty much the end of it. After that we never talked about it, but I was glad she knew and was OK with it. That’s why I think you need to come out to your family. I know it’s hard. It was maybe the hardest thing I ever did, but I felt so much better afterwards.”

Of course I knew Ryan’s mother, who we both called Sally, and I envied him. They were so comfortable around each other and I could tell they loved each other. Then there was my family. The only time I was ever comfortable at all with any of them was when I was alone with Mum. I think she loved me and I know I loved her. But she never stood up for me when Doug or Dad was giving me a hard time. So I didn’t really know if I should come out to them or not.


When Ryan said I should come out, that sort of pissed me off. “Why do we have to come out to everyone and straight people don't? Why do we have to be labeled gay and they aren't labeled straight? It doesn’t make sense! Why can't we just all be ‘normal’?”

“I don’t really know how to answer that, Jason. I just know that we have to be ourselves and not try to hide who we are. You can’t let being gay define you. You’re not just gay, you know. You’re a lot of other things too – smart, funny, artistic, loving. I just think you can’t be really happy with yourself unless you’re living your life in the open. Always hiding just isn’t healthy.”

I thought about that over the next few days and finally decided he must be right. So one afternoon when I was alone with Mum, I did pretty much what Ryan had done. I said, “Mum, I need to talk with you about something.”

She nodded and we sat together at the kitchen table.

“Mum, I’m gay.”

I don’t know what I expected, but I know what I got. First she said that wasn’t true and she blamed Ryan for talking me into it. She said I was just going through a phase and I’d grow out of it.

“No, Mum. I am. I’m attracted to boys. I want to have sex with them. I’m not attracted to girls at all and I never will be.”

She looked at me with horror on her face. Then she burst into tears and ran into her bedroom, slamming the door.

Oh shit, I thought. Now what?

I found out that night before dinner. I guess Mum had told Dad what I said, because he called me into the living room where he and Doug and Mum all stared at me. Finally Dad yelled, “What the fuck were you doing upsetting your mother like that?” He smashed a picture in the living room and then he hit me hard with his fist to the left side of my face. “If you think you’re a queer then you’d better think again. You better just get rid of the idea and pray to God that he forgives you. Now get out of my sight, and don’t come out of your room until I tell you to.”

I ran to my room. I didn’t eat anything that night. I spent a lot of time crying. Then I texted Ryan and told him what had happened. He wrote back, “Fuck! Can we talk tomorrow?” I wrote back, telling him my dad was making me stay in my room and I didn’t know when I’d be out. Then I turned my phone off. I didn’t want to write or talk anymore.

After everybody had gone to bed, I went into the bathroom. I really needed to pee, but I also took a look at myself in the mirror. The left side of my face was red and bruised and swollen, and I had a black eye. Man, he had hit me hard. I went back to my room and tried to sleep but didn’t have much luck.

Mum brought me breakfast the next morning. I spent the rest of the day in my room, sad, scared, and bored. I thought about killing myself, but I didn’t know how I’d do it. So I just sat or lay on my bed. I tried to read but couldn’t concentrate.

After Mum brought me supper that night, most of which I didn’t eat, Dad came to my room and made me look at pictures of tortured and murdered men, saying, “This is how a queer should be treated.”

The next day, Dad said I had to go to school. Mum said I couldn’t go to school with those bruises showing. Dad repeated that I had to go, so guess who won. I got on the bus and sat alone as usual. On the bus I texted Ryan that I had to see him, and he told me to meet him at the park after school. Kids looked at my face, which by then was purple, but didn’t say anything. A couple of the teachers asked about my face, but I just gave them the old walking into the door excuse, and they didn’t pursue it. But by lunch time, kids were passing me in the hall saying things like, “Queer,” and “Homo.” One of the kids who was actually usually pretty nice to me told me that Doug had outed me. God damned bastard! I thought. That’s all I need.

By the end of the day it was clear that everybody in middle school and probably a lot of kids in the high school knew. I waited until everybody had left and then dragged myself to the park, where Ryan was waiting.

He took one look at my face and said, “C’mon. We’re going to my house.” I followed him reluctantly.

When we got there, he took me into the kitchen and washed my face with ice water. Then he took a plastic bag, put ice in it, wrapped it in a towel and told me to hold it on my face.

Neither of us had said anything the whole time. Finally, Ryan said, “Damn, Jason, I am so sorry. I never had any idea that would happen. I liked your mum. I thought she’d maybe have a hard time with it at first but that she’d eventually accept you. Sure I know some people hate gays, but I never thought your dad would hit his own son. I just can’t believe he hit you like that.”

“Oh, that’s not the first time he’s hit me. He seems to enjoy it. The bastard never hits Doug. Oh, no. Doug can’t do anything wrong. But every time I do anything, it’s wrong and he hits me. Usually he’s more careful not to leave any marks except under my clothes so I guess he was really angry this time.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“What can I do? I’m too chicken to run away and try to live on the streets. If I live at home, it’ll be torture. I just don’t know what to do. Maybe I should just kill myself and get it over with.”

Ryan looked shocked and then scared. “God, no!!!! Don’t even think like that. We’ll find a solution somehow.”

At that point, Sally walked in. She took one look at me and asked, “What happened?”

Ryan told her and then blurted out, “Could Jason live here for a few days until this blows over?”

“Of course,” she said. “I’ll call Jason’s mother right away.”

“She won’t be home until after 5:00,” I said. “This is a day that she works in the afternoon.”

“Okay, so I’ll drive you and Ryan to your house. You can pack up some clothes and anything you need for school and we’ll come back here. If your brother’s there, just tell him you’re spending the night at our house.”

So Ryan and I rode with her to my house and hurried in. I got out a duffle bag and threw in some clothes and my school supplies. Doug wasn’t home so I was spared having to talk to him.

Ryan set me up in their spare bedroom and helped me put things away. Then we sat on his bed and talked for a long time. I don’t remember what we talked about. I just remember that we were side by side, our legs touching and his arm around my shoulder as he comforted me. I felt a huge sense of relief. I knew that I was safe with Ryan. He said I could stay as long as I wanted to. I wondered if he had asked Sally about that, but I didn’t dare ask.

Meanwhile, Sally called Mum. They talked for quite a while and Mum finally agreed that maybe it was better if I stayed with Ryan and Sally at least temporarily.

Sally made us a special meal that night, what she called ‘comfort food.’ We had a wonderful hot tomato soup and then mac and cheese. She didn’t even worry about vegetables! For dessert we had hot fudge sundaes. I wondered how she knew that tomato soup and mac and cheese were my comfort foods, but I guess some moms know a lot.

When we got ready for bed that night, Ryan gave me a gentle kiss on the forehead and I kissed him on the cheek. I was exhausted so I went to sleep quickly.

I didn’t wake up until he shook me awake in the morning. He was already up and said he had finished in the bathroom. I was embarrassed because I had my usual morning boner, so I waited until he left, covered myself and went into the bathroom. I had to try to get my cock to relax so I could pee because I really wasn’t comfortable jerking off in his bathroom. When it was sort of half relaxed I tried to pee, to push it out, but it stung the hole at the tip so I had to wait longer. Finally it relaxed and I could go. What a relief!

A few minutes later I was at the breakfast table eating cold cereal and drinking orange juice. Sally made lunches for both of us and then drove us to school.

As we got out of the car, I heard some say, “Hey, look. It’s the Queermobile!” Ryan and I just ignored them and went into school where we parted, planning to meet again after school.


My days at Ryan’s house stretched into weeks. Mum visited me a couple of times. I think she was trying to figure out just who and what I was. Maybe she had accepted that I was gay, but she knew it was better for me not to be at home.

Eventually I became more comfortable jerking off at Ryan’s house, either in my bedroom or in the bathroom with the door locked. Because of the testosterone shots, I had begun to shoot a little.

One day I forgot to lock the bedroom door, and just as I was coming, it burst open and Ryan came in. He looked horrified and said, “God, I’m sorry!!”

I quickly replaced my cock in my underwear and looked up at him, blushing. “Well, now you know,” I said with a feeble smile.

“Of course I know. Or at least of course I’ve always assumed. Guys do that, and it’s perfectly okay. I’m just sorry I burst in on a private moment. But why do you get so little cum?” I explained to him what the problem was with my low testosterone and he urged me to keep getting the shots. From then on, Sally took me for my appointments.

We both got nasty comments from some kids at school, but we tried to ignore them. The surprise was that there were kids who tried their best to support us. I had never imagined that happening.

About a week later, Ryan asked, “Jason, could we have a date?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we’ve been doing things like meeting in the park or going to a movie or having ice cream, but we’ve never called it a ‘date.’ I love you, and I want to start dating. You know, make it official.”

By then I knew that I loved him too, so I agreed. The date wasn’t really much more than what we had done before. It was just before school got out for the summer and we had a half day for teachers’ meetings. We went to lunch and then walked around town before going to our park. It was perfect.

It wasn’t long after that when one day we were lying on the grass in our park. We had found a secluded spot where nobody ever bothered us. Ryan was on his side with our faces nearly touching. He gazed solemnly at me as I stared into his beautiful green eyes. I looked at his full, luscious lips and the little mole which always seemed to turn me on. I could feel myself growing hard.

Then something amazing happened. He put his hand gently behind my head, pulled me to him and kissed me right on the lips! His lips were so sweet and gentle. Soon, I felt his tongue on my lips and automatically opened my mouth, where his tongue moved sensually around inside. After I recovered from the surprise, I began to move my tongue in his mouth as he groaned. In no time we were hugging and kissing and tonguing and running our hands over each other’s bodies. It was AMAZING!! You know how people talk about sparks flying and electricity and all? Well, it was true!!! I felt goose bumps all over and butterflies in my stomach. It was so beautiful and amazing and wonderful I wanted it to go on forever. Finally, he leaned back and looked at me with a big grin on his face. I think he might have been afraid that I wouldn’t like it or something, but he could see the sparks in my eyes and he just smiled that wonderful, happy smile of his. When I smiled back, he leaned over and kissed me again before we got up to leave. Arm in arm we walked to the edge of the park, oblivious to anybody who might see us.

Walking to Ryan’s house, which I had begun to think of as home, I had to have been the happiest person on earth. I couldn’t feel the sidewalk or the street. I finally knew what it meant to be walking on clouds. We walked in the door together and Sally was there. She looked up at us, looked again, and asked, “Well. What happened to you two?” We didn’t answer. We just smiled and went upstairs.

After that, when we kissed and tongued in the park, we both immediately grew hard. A few days later, Ryan gently pushed me back and lay on top of me. I could feel his boner through our pants. Slowly he began to move up and down. I felt myself getting very excited as he began to move faster and harder. And then both of us came. It was so wonderful. Okay, I didn’t shoot as much or as long as he did, but I still enjoyed the feelings. When we finished, we hugged and kissed and tongued as our cocks eventually went back to normal. Ryan rolled off of me, looked at our pants and said, “Oops.” There was a big wet spot on his pants just below his belt and a smaller one on mine. We both laughed and then lay in the sun until our pants dried. “I guess we’d better not do that on a cloudy day,” I said, and again we both laughed.

One evening as it was getting dark and we were out just walking around, Ryan insisted that we go to the park because he wanted to show me something. There was nobody there but us. He took me to the playground and pulled me under a picnic table. Then he took out a little flashlight and his jackknife and carved our names on the table with a little heart between them. Under that he wrote, “Love you forever.” I got really emotional and kinda cried a little. I’m always a cry baby, but then we stayed there for a long time, just cuddling and staring at our names carved under the table. I know it was probably nothing and that a lot of people did that, but to me it meant soooo much and I loved it with all my heart. Ryan was always the spontaneous guy. I was always hesitant. But I loved him when he did something like this.

Meanwhile, the sex part of our relationship continued to grow. We were often in one of our bedrooms, usually his, and we’d just lie on his bed and jerk off together. Sometimes we’d grind each other, which is what we had done in the park. But we got naked first so there was no problem with spots on our pants. Then one day when we were beginning to jerk off, Ryan reached over and began to do me. I was amazed at how much more intense that felt, and from then on we jerked each other off.

On a weekend in the summer, Ryan and I went camping. I had never been camping before and had no idea what to expect. It was soooo beautiful ‒ quiet and calming like our own little world, with no one but me and Ryan. We had a tent with us, but the weather was great, so we didn’t even put it up. After we cooked our supper, we laid our blankets on the ground. We sat in each other’s arms and watched the sunset. By then we were naked of course. In the dusk, Ryan pushed me gently back and took my cock in his mouth. We hadn’t done that before, and it was an amazing feeling. Then he took his mouth off, moved up, and kissed me on the mouth, tonguing me. From there he put his tongue in my ear and I shivered. He asked me if I was cold but I shook my head, so he began running his tongue over my chest. He nibbled my nipples and I shivered again. All the time he was kissing me he was running has hands over my body, fondling my balls and cock and gently rubbing my thighs. I knew I was about to come, and I sighed, “I’m coming.” He nodded and again moved his mouth to my excited dick. I was hardly inside his mouth when I arched my back and came wonderfully in his mouth. He kept sucking until I was relaxed again and then he moved up and kissed me.

Ryan was hard as a rock. I asked him if he wanted me to suck him and he just smiled and nodded, so I did all the same things to him, bringing him to a slow throbbing climax in my mouth. Of course, he still shot a lot more cum than I did. I rolled it around in my mouth before swallowing the sweet and salty fluid. I thought I’d be grossed out but doing it with him I wasn’t. I was just so glad that I could make him happy.

We both peed in the woods and then we slept. A little before sunrise we woke up and sat where we could watch the sun come up together. We stayed in that camping spot for the whole weekend, just me and my beautiful Ryan and the amazing nature around us. Oh yeah, and the equally amazing sex.

After that I often slept in Ryan’s room with him. His closet was a rainbow. He had every color you could think of in there. He had a double bed which was a bit of a squeeze for two active sleepers, but we managed. I never figured out how much Sally knew about what was going on. She never said anything, not even a hint, but she must have known.

Sometimes we watched gay twink porn on his computer together. That usually got us really hot. It also got us really educated.

One night, toward the end of the summer, Ryan said, “I want to try something.” He laid me on the bed and began to remove my clothes. We had a certain ritual by now in which we usually undressed each other, but when I reached up to undress him, he stopped me and said, “Not this time.”

First in the ritual was removing any socks and shoes. Then he sat me up and drew my T-shirt over my head. Before he went on, he kissed me and tongued me while I kissed and tongued back. Then he kissed my nipples, massaging them with his tongue. Reaching down, he undid my belt and my trousers. I raised my hips as he pulled off my pants and then my underpants. As I lay naked on the bed, he lay beside me, kissing me all over and rubbing strategic places like my nipples and my balls.

“Roll over and get up on all fours,” he said. I did. Then, very gently, he pushed my buns apart and fingered my crack. I groaned.

“Do you like that?” he asked and I nodded. He bent over and began licking my hole. It felt delicious. I had seen rimming in the porn we watched but I always thought it was kinda gross. I have to admit, however, that I really, really liked it. When he finished, he stuck his finger in the hole but it didn’t go far because he had no lubricant. He left for a minute and came back with some sort of cream from the bathroom. Getting it on his finger he stuck his finger in again. This time it went in pretty easily. I was in heaven. He touched one spot in there that almost sent me to the ceiling.

When he finished, he asked me to do the same for him, so I did, undressing him, kissing him, licking him, and then sticking a finger in as he moaned and groaned. I had thought that rimming might taste awful, but it really didn’t.

After that we sucked each other until we both came and then lay on the bed in each other’s arms. I was wonderfully warm and happy. I hadn’t known life could be so delightful.

In the days that followed we continued to explore. Ryan wanted to fuck me, but I really freaked out at that, although I did kinda want him inside me. But we didn’t do it. Usually we just sucked each other; sometimes we did the rimming and the finger.

We continued to go on dates all through the summer. Ryan loved ice cream and candy, and of course summer was a perfect time for ice cream, so many of our dates ended up in an ice cream shop. We’d talk and giggle and we didn’t give a damn what anybody else in the place thought of us. When we walked around, we usually held hands. Some people made faces at us but a few smiled.

I became aware that I was actually having fun for the first time in years. Yeah, the sex was great and fun, but we did so many other things that were fun besides that. I couldn’t have been happier.

Of course we didn’t spend ALL of our time together. Ryan had decided that he wanted to be a doctor, “The best doctor anyone can be.” So sometimes he volunteered to work with kids at the hospital. He was very nice to everyone and he believed that deep down everyone was a good person no matter how much they tried to hide it.

When I told him how sometimes I hated my dad and my brother he said, “Hate is a strong word. You don’t hate them and they don’t hate you, because there’s no such thing as hate. You guys are just not on the same page and you have different points of view.” God, I used to get mad at him for telling me that. I DID hate my dad and my brother. It wasn’t a point of view. It was that they had both been mean to me all my life.


Unfortunately, the summer passed and it was nearing time for school. I dreaded it. I was going to be a freshman in high school that year. Probably everybody in the school was bigger than me, although the shots had begun to make me grow taller. As school grew nearer, I really worried a lot.

Ryan and I had decided to go to a movie the day before school reopened. Since we would have to get up early the next morning, we decided to go to the 4:00 o’clock showing of the Star Wars movie, “Revenge of theSith.” We had seen it when it first came out, but we decided that it was not a problem to see a Star Wars movie more than once.

We arrived early, bought some popcorn and sodas, and went into the theater, where we climbed up to the back row because, although neither of us had mentioned it, we both intended to cuddle during the show.

It was fun seeing the movie for the second time because we caught details which had passed us by before.And of course, the cuddling was fun too.

At the end of the movie, we left the theater, intending to catch a bus which would go right past Ryan’s house. As we began to cross the street holding hands there was a squeal of tires. Looking up I saw a car heading straight towards us. Instantly, Ryan pushed me out of the way just before the car hit him full on.

I was shocked and terrified. I looked down at his broken body, partly under the car. Blood was seeping out onto the pavement. I stood, frozen, as he called to me, “Jason! Jason.” His voice was weak but I could hear it clearly. I couldn’t move. I simply stood with tears running down my face.

Although it felt like an interminable time, I began to hear sirens in the distance. An ambulance and a police car pulled up quickly. Then a tow truck arrived and began to lift the car off Ryan. Ryan screamed and I lost it. I vomited all over the street. I was shaking and crying and sick.

As the EMTs worked on Ryan a police officer came over to me, took one look at me, and suggested that I lie down. Mechanically, I lay down, just doing what he said. I was completely unable to think. He asked if I was hurt and I shook my head. I watched as the men loaded Ryan into the ambulance and drove off, siren screaming.

After it was gone, the officer asked me what had happened. Again mechanically, I told him as he took notes. Then he said I should get in his car and in a few minutes he would drive me home. He helped me up and walked me to his cruiser, where I lay down on the back seat.

I thought about what he had said. Where was home? If I went to Ryan’s house, I knew that Sally would have gone to the hospital so I would be alone. I didn’t want to be alone. If I went to the hospital, I knew I would just be ignored.

Suddenly, I felt very angry at Ryan. Why had he pushed me away? Why couldn’t he have let the car hit me? Then my miserable life would be over and he could go on with his. I knew he did it because he loved me, but that didn’t make me any less angry.

When the officer returned and asked where I lived, I didn’t know what to do, but finally I gave him my family’s address.

We arrived at my house and he walked me from the car to the door and pushed the doorbell. My mother opened to door, looked at the officer and the police car and then asked, “What have you done now?”

The officer intervened and told her what had happened. “Well,” my mother said, “I guess you’d better come in.” No hugs! No sympathy! I went up to my bedroom and lay down. Later Mum came and asked if I wanted anything to eat. I just shook my head and she left.

It was dark outside and the only light in the room came from a street lamp across the road. I finally cried myself out and eventually fell asleep.

At first, I dreamed of the accident. Later I dreamed of Ryan in the hospital. Then I didn’t dream at all.

I became aware of something touching my lips. Awakening slowly, I was at first unable to process what was happening, but then I realized that lips were gently kissing me and a tongue was on my mouth. I opened my eyes and saw Ryan’s face just six inches from mine. I was astonished but neither of us said anything. We just gazed into each other’s eyes and I felt that Ryan was trying to send me a message.

In a moment, he pulled back from me and removed my covers. Then he undid the top of my pajamas and pulled off the bottoms. What I hadn’t realized until then was that he was totally naked.

Finally, he spoke. “I want to do something to show you how much I love you.” He started to kiss me, beginning at my ears and then moving slowly down to my neck, paying special attention to the indentation where my collarbones came together. Then he began to move down my chest, his tongue playing with my nipples. When he reached my belly button, he wiggled his tongue in it for a moment before finally moving down to the nearly hairless area around the base of my cock. Slowly, he took my cock in his hand and began licking up it towards the tip very slowly and gently. He repeated that several times before taking my balls in his mouth and sucking tenderly. After once again running his tongue up my now firm cock, he pushed me onto my side. I could feel his finger on my butt hole and I shivered, then he moved his mouth to my hole and began licking it as one hand slowly massaged behind my balls. It was the most intense feeling I had ever experienced.

I loved him so much at that point, and I tried to tell him, but he just said, “Sh…sh…sh,” and smiled his beautiful smile.

He took my cock again and began slowly moving up and down. He released it for a moment and licked it, especially the most sensitive area near the tip. Then he put it in his mouth again. I have no idea how long he did that before he began moving a little faster. Just as he released my cock again, I came, intensely, almost violently, and my cum splattered on my stomach. I knew it was the most cum I had ever made. He smiled and put his index finger in some of my cum. Bringing it up to my mouth he said, “Lick this.” I did, and he smiled again as he licked the rest of the cum off my stomach.

By then, I was exhausted. He rolled off me and lay beside me as I turned so we were facing each other.

“Thank you,” I said. “That was wonderful! I’ll never forget it.”

He smiled, leaned over, kissed me, and said, “Good.”

Then I realized what had happened and wondered why he wasn’t injured and in the hospital.

I think he was reading my mind, because he said, “I did this tonight because I wanted you to know how much I love you and to know that, no matter what happens, I will always love you and be with you. And I want you to know something else. In time, when you’re ready, I want you to find someone else. You don’t have to go through life alone. And when you find that someone, just know that I will totally approve.”

I couldn’t imagine ever loving anyone else, so I just nodded and then asked, “Why aren’t you in the hospital?”

“I am,” he smiled. Then very slowly he began to fade.

“Don’t go!” I cried but he continued to fade. His body, which had been warm and firm, grew softer and softer and, before I knew it, he was gone. My clock said 3:05.

I lay back, wondering how all that had happened. Then gradually I grew drowsy and fell asleep.


There was a knock on the door and, when I opened my eyes, the sun was out. Mum came into the room, sat down on the edge of the bed, and said, “Ryan died a little after 3 o’clock this morning.”

I nodded and said, “I know.”

She looked mystified but then asked if I wanted some breakfast. Although I had eaten nothing since the popcorn in the theater, I didn’t think I was hungry, so I said, “Just a little.” She went out of the room.

A few minutes later she returned with a tray which held toast, orange juice, and milk. She stood for a moment, not know just what to say, before she quietly stammered out, “I…I…I’m so sorry about what happened and that I wasn’t more sympathetic last night. I just couldn’t wrap my mind around what you were telling me.” She leaned over, gave me a kiss on the forehead, and left.

The next few days were difficult, especially the funeral. I didn’t even listen to what the pastor said. As I gazed at the coffin in the front of the church, I knew that Ryan wasn’t there. He was with me even though I couldn’t see him. A warm wave of love spread over me as I said in my mind, “Thank you Ryan. I love you.”


This story is based on what I was told by one of my readers, who lives in England. Much of it is in his words, edited by me to make the story hang together. The fatal automobile accident did in fact happen.

Many stories end with questions unresolved. In this story, the question of what became of Jason after Ryan died is a big one, but I decided to let the readers answer that for themselves. Does Jason remain upbeat? Does he find a new partner? Does he return to his old self-image? Do the dynamics of his family change?

I have chosen to leave those questions unanswered. My hope is that you will find answers for them that make sense to you.