Boy Crazy: Coming Out Erotica (10 page)

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“So do you think he’s gay?” Rey asked me one night. It was late, hot, and we lay in our beds in the dark.
 
“Totally,” I said, thrilled to approach the subject.
 
“I heard he’s involved with Drummond, the swim coach.”
 
“No, really?”
 
From there we crafted an underwater sex scene that was carefully supportive, neither of us owning up to any deep interest even though I had a hard-on just from talking about such a thing.
 
Rey was always casual about nakedness in front of me, far more at ease than I ever was, and I wondered how he’d gotten to be so comfortable on display. Was that what growing up in the fields did? I’d always been uneasy in locker rooms, afraid I’d get turned on, so my nakedness had a hurried quality, but Rey would come from the shower and just drop his towel, then stand combing his hair or looking through his closet—and I’d be trying not to look but seeing every inch of his adorable butt, his solid torso, his broad shoulders, and a dick that always looked halfway hard. His chest was smooth, and sometimes he’d absently rub a tit while deciding what to wear. Even though his wardrobe was nothing special, he still was selective, and this got my hopes up. That, and the fact that after a whole month he’d never mentioned girls, nor asked me why I hadn’t. Then one day I came back from class to find myself alone, and there on Rey’s bed a magazine lay open to a colorful spread of naked guys with hard dicks.
 
I’d heard of those magazines but had never seen one—where do you get such a thing at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, where everybody knows you’re the Major’s son? I’d never even had a computer until I bought one for myself my senior year, but even then I didn’t dare check out any gay sites because the Major patrolled that computer like a field marshal.
 
I sank onto Rey’s bed and began to turn pages, getting hard in record time, so I locked the door, tugged out my dick, and jerked off while looking at an honest-to-god hard-on. Frantic with this newfound ecstasy, I didn’t keep the magazine out of range, and when I was done I found dollops of come down the muscular leg of the gay on the page. Wiping it off with my sleeve left dark smears that began to crinkle the paper, so I turned a few pages, left the magazine open to a new naked guy, and mopped up.
 
Rey was late getting back that day. When he finally came in, he acted all casual, going on about some jock in English lit, then Professor Deal who he’d seen talking to Coach Drummond. “What do you suppose they were saying? Your place or mine?”
 
“Your dick or mine?”
 
We did several more riffs and then Rey sat on his bed, picked up the magazine, and started paging through it. “Christ, I got come on it again,” he said, and I saw he was rubbing a thumb over my residue. Then he looked up at me. “Or did I?”
 
A bolt shot through me, excitement and fear rolled into one because it was an opening, sure as shit, but it could also be an ambush, as if the Major had sent forces ahead to rout the faggot. I’d been enticed, trap sprung, but then Rey smiled and came over to my bed.
 
“It’s okay,” he said. “We’re alike, you and me.”
 
Still cautious because this was too important, I said nothing.
 
“I mean, we’re both musicians,” he added, then laughed. “Lighten up, Ty. God, that old man of yours must’ve been hell. I hate what he did to you, but he’s gone now and I’m here.” And he took my hand and brought it to his crotch, where he pressed it to a nice bulge.
 
“Little white boy, I want to eat you up,” he said as he ran his fingers up my thigh. I kept my hand on his dick while he unzipped me and got out my cock. “Sweet,” he said.
 
I pulled at his zipper, too shaky to make anything work. “Let’s get comfortable,” he said, and stood and undressed. I did likewise but stopped midway, pants at my ankles because the body I’d seen naked so often now sported a gorgeous erection, and I thought how he was equal to those hunks in the magazine and I’d tell him this if my voice ever came back.
 
I’d never done anything with anybody. Sex for me was by hand, although I’d shoved a greased banana up my ass a couple of times while jerking off. Rey was obviously experienced and I wondered who he’d been with. But then I was in his arms, kissing a boy for the first time.
 
The lips I’d noticed that first day were now on mine, his tongue chasing after my own. Since I had no idea how to French kiss, I let him lead. After a while he pulled off, slid down to my tits, and started licking and biting, which about drove me crazy. I moaned, clutching my dick because I was gonna shoot, but then he slid down farther, pushed me onto my back, and sucked me into his mouth, which made me babble and come simultaneously. Words rushed out of me like the jizz out of my cock, all “Oh, fuck, oh, shit, suck me, man,” on and on until I’d shot the biggest load of my life.
 
Rey stayed on me when I was done, sucking me even when I got soft. He was working my balls, then slid a finger between them and around my hole, and I raised my knees to let him know I wanted it. He wet a finger and pushed into me. Forget my dick, I was all ass now and I reached for his cock.
 
“Fuck me,” I rasped.
 
He got a rubber on in like two seconds, then shoved gobs of grease into me. Then I raised my legs and he took aim, easing forward, his knob poking at my pucker. I clenched when I meant the opposite and he kept poking while I kept trying to relax.
 
“First time?” he said as he tried to get in.
 
“Yeah, but do it, man, just do it,” I cried, and with that he thrust hard, popping into me and going deep.
 
“You’re in me,” I said, too thrilled not to say it.
 
My life flashed before me. I kept pulling my legs higher and wider because I wanted to open for him—I could not get enough of the penetration I’d always craved. Among the images zooming by me was that of the Major, frozen to attention as he saw me taking cock. I grabbed my dick to add to the show.
 
Rey had a rhythm going now and his expression went from easy to urgent, tensing as his load began to rise. “Yes,” I said because I wanted nothing more than his come inside me, plus I got to watch his face and I thought, over and over,
He’s inside me
.
Rey is coming inside me
. And he came then, letting out a strangled cry, like he had to hold back a roar, and he pounded my ass, which set me on a frantic jerk-fest that got me a few more spurts in time with his gusher.
 
Sweat ran off him and as he quieted he absolutely glistened and I thought about licking him, and how I’d maybe get to suck his dick later and maybe get my dick up him and I’d have to ask him if that was okay. There had to be a ton of things for us to do to each other that I didn’t even know about but first, after we rested, I wanted him to fuck me again.
 
LARRY AND HIS FATHER
 
Thomas Fuchs
 
 
 
 
 
 
L
arry Chambers, fifteen, lumpish and clumsy, masturbates to thoughts of a high school classmate, Roger Dudoff, lithe and athletic. He hardly knows Roger. They move in different circles and Roger has a girlfriend, but still, it is Roger that Larry dreams of.
 
Larry’s parents usually get along with little discord, but lately they’ve been arguing. They argue with the door closed, so Larry wonders if it is about him. It is. Larry’s father is worried, and accuses his wife of having spoiled the boy, making him soft and selfish. He never says that he thinks his son is gay, but both of them know this is what they are really talking about. Larry’s mother is unhappy about the possibility, but it is much worse for Larry’s father. Several times in his life he has felt a powerful attraction to another man. He has always been strong, has always resisted, and he believes that he has been rewarded with a family, a contented life. But he fears that the tendency runs in his blood.
 
Roger Dudoff, the boy Larry fantasizes about, appears at the public library where Larry works part-time shelving books. He asks Larry for help. They have both finished their sophomore year, but Roger is carrying an incomplete in an English class and must submit three book reports at summer’s end. Can Larry suggest some books, nothing too long or complicated? He’s friendly, sweet, really. His smile is dazzling. Larry’s heart is pounding.
 
Larry thinks of suggesting
Alone in the Trenches
, by Joe Tupelo, a professional football player who came out of the closet. He loses his nerve and instead walks Roger over to a biography of Shaquille O’Neal.
 
As he’s about to leave with the book, Roger decides Larry can help him with another problem. He’s been taking judo; he has made it to brown belt and is working hard toward his black belt. The instructor has announced they need more students or he will close the day classes, which are the only ones Roger can go to because of his summer job. Everyone has been asked to try to recruit new students.
 
“You’re a big guy,” he says to Larry. “Have you ever thought of taking judo?”
 
Larry would jump in front of a bus if Roger asked him to, but judo? “I’m not very athletic, you know,” he says.
 
“Come on,” says Roger. “It’s fun.” That big grin. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”
 
Oh, shit,
thinks Larry
, physical contact with Roger Dudoff!
 
 
Larry stands on the sidewalk outside the dojo, peering through the window at the guys throwing and wrestling on the mats. Does he have the nerve to try to enter this world? A tall, powerfully built man who is instructing spots Larry, comes to the door, opens it. “Would you like to come in?” he asks.
 
As Larry enters, Roger breaks off from practice, comes over and introduces him to the instructor, whose name is Kubata, always to be addressed as Sensei: Sensei Kubata.
 
Sensei explains that the first lesson is free. From then on it’s seventy-five dollars a month, for three lessons a week. Larry thinks about his allowance and what he makes at the library. He can manage it.
 
For the first lesson, the dojo will lend him a gi, the heavy cotton judo uniform. If he continues, he has to buy his own for fifty dollars. Well, that’s okay. And then Sensei hands him a waiver, a promise not to sue if he is injured. One of his parents must sign it.
 
At home, Larry says nothing to his parents. He knows his father wants him to be more physical. Learning that his son is undertaking something as vigorous as judo would please him, but suppose it doesn’t work out? Also on Larry’s mind is his real reason for joining the class. He doesn’t want to be questioned. He forges his father’s signature on the liability waiver.
 
 
When Larry returns to the dojo for his first lesson, Roger gives him a big wave hello, but Larry doesn’t get to lay hands on him, or anyone else. The first lesson consists of some limbering-up exercises and then learning to fall.
I have to learn how to fall?
he thinks to himself. Of course, the point is to learn to fall without getting hurt. Near the end of the first hour, Sensei Kubata feels it is safe to show Larry a throw. Setting him up for the move, he grabs hold of Larry and draws him against his body. Larry has never felt a body so solid. Like iron. But then, Larry hasn’t touched many bodies.
 
He’s suddenly in the air and then on the mat, but he’s fallen as instructed. He’s fine. It was fun, a thrill. Sensei throws him again, and again he is unhurt. There’s another reason now that he wants to take judo, although he’s only vaguely aware of it. There’s power here, a power he might be able to tap into.
 
When Roger sees that Larry is joining up, he comes over, slaps him on the shoulder, grinning. They’re buddies now.
 
 
At his next lesson, Larry is paired with another beginner, one who is only a few weeks ahead of him. Roger is there, working out with guys at his level. He says hi to Larry and flashes that smile.

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