Boy Crazy: Coming Out Erotica (2 page)
Read Boy Crazy: Coming Out Erotica Online
Authors: Unknown
He couldn’t argue with that. Nate’s butt was round and plump and he loved to show it off, mooning Carl whenever he got the chance. Returning from their routes, Nate would jump ahead of him in the alley, lowering his shorts over his substantial behind, strutting for Carl’s embarrassed amusement.
“Mrs. Foust was teaching health today,” Nate said one day on the walk home from school. “And Steve Sprague asked her how gay guys have sex. It was unbelievable. She should have been like, ‘Okay, Steve, you come up to the front and bend over. Now Ken, you get behind him and pull your pants down, and put your penis in that hole.’” And just like that Nate had handed Carl a powerful piece of information. Gay sex had been a murky amorphous thing for him until then, a soft-focus picture of two muscular men rubbing their soapy bodies together in a heart-shaped tub. Now his imagination had a physical act to contend with, and contend it did.
The two friends had never seen one another’s dicks, but once Carl spotted Nate’s balls under his boxer shorts, resting against his thigh, and was bold enough to point it out.
“I don’t care,” Nate said. He looked down at himself, then raised the leg of his boxers until his whole smooth nut sac was exposed. Carl feigned disgust but Nate wasn’t moved.
“You’re so weird about your body,” he said to Carl, which hurt, but Nate couldn’t know that the risks weren’t the same for both of them, the playing field not level. Carl barely realized it himself.
They played at flirtation. Nate put on Depeche Mode one night, slipping his ass out of his shorts and bumping around his room. Carl sat below him on the beanbag chair.
“What are you doing?” Carl said.
“I’m stripping for you,” Nate said in faux-seduction mode. Carl laughed incredulously as Nate lifted off his shirt and wiggled his bare ass from side to side. He got more and more explicit, carefully holding his shorts above his crotch as he pushed his butt back toward Carl’s face. He planted his feet wide and bent over all the way, then pulled his cheeks apart. There was his hole, the first one Carl had ever seen, a pink-purplish shock. Nate laughed at his own brazenness, but Carl kept his cool. Taking it further, Nate lay down on the floor, ass in the air, and humped away. He brought his butt closer to Carl’s face and finally got on all fours and spread it wide.
The shock had worn off and Carl found himself with a hard-on, mesmerized at the sight of that hidden forbidden place. He thought of holding out his finger and giving Nate a shock of his own when he backed up his ass, wondering what it would feel like to touch it. He’d touched his own before.
Nate rolled on his back. The song was nearing its end. He threw his shorts-bound legs over his head and as the song died down he flexed his asshole to the beat. It was ridiculous, beyond transgressive, and they both laughed hysterically as Nate dropped his legs and pulled up his shorts. The pup-tent in the front didn’t go unnoticed by Carl, but Nate tried to hide it, launching himself belly-first onto the bed.
“That was so gay,” Nate said.
They went to the Groom Senior High homecoming game and walked home together when it got boring. The announcer’s voice echoed from the field across the brisk night sky; the field lights were still visible on the hill.
“You know Chad McCrae?” Nate said.
“Yeah.” Chad was a junior like Carl’s and Nate’s older brothers.
“He’s going out with Hillary Ramsden. My brother’s friends were over last night, and they were saying that Hillary ate out his ass.”
“Ate out his ass?”
“Yeah,” Nate said. “It’s like the other kind of eating out, except she did it to his…butthole,” Nate said.
“Gross,” Carl said.
“She’s a slut,” Nate said. “I can’t imagine how you would do something like that. Unless he’d washed his butthole really good.”
“Even then.”
“Yeah, it’s disgusting either way, but maybe not as bad if he was really clean.”
“
Maybe
,” Carl said.
Maybe
,” Carl said.
Later they were in Nate’s bedroom. Nate’s parents and brother were still at the game, so they had the whole house to themselves. They played Risk and Nate won, as usual. They got bored.
“I wish you weren’t here so I could jerk off,” Nate said. “Don’t act like you don’t do it. We both do. Why don’t we just admit it to each other? Why is it this big secret?”
“I’ll go downstairs if you want to jerk off,” Carl said.
“No way. I need to go downstairs too. I get naked and run all around the house when I jerk off.”
“You’re full of it,” Carl said. Nate got on his stomach and started humping the bed. He took down his underwear and exposed his ass, backing it up to reveal his hole.
“Then you pretend you’re Hillary Ramsden and I’m Chad,” Nate said.
“You gotta get it clean first,” Carl said.
“Okay,” Nate said, and got up and left the room. Carl was sitting on the beanbag chair, looking at the comic in his hand but not comprehending a frame of it. He could hear running water in the bathroom, though it could have been Nate tricking him. When Nate came back to the room he had just his underwear on.
“I’m ready for you, Hillary,” he said and flopped on to the bed with his legs dangling over. He shoved his briefs down around his thighs, then took them completely off.
“Oh,
Chad
,” Carl said with soap-opera passion, getting between Nate’s legs. He took hold of his calves. “Give me that ass, baby.” Nate chuckled and raised his butt toward Carl’s face, letting his cheeks spread apart. Nate’s sac was drawn up tight below his asshole; the space between them domed and swollen. Carl moved his hands up higher, let his fingers flirt with Nate’s buttcheeks.
Chad
,” Carl said with soap-opera passion, getting between Nate’s legs. He took hold of his calves. “Give me that ass, baby.” Nate chuckled and raised his butt toward Carl’s face, letting his cheeks spread apart. Nate’s sac was drawn up tight below his asshole; the space between them domed and swollen. Carl moved his hands up higher, let his fingers flirt with Nate’s buttcheeks.
“Do it, Hillary,” Nate kept saying. “Eat my ass.” To Carl, the idea was starting to seem less crazy than it had a few hours ago. Nate’s asshole was familiar to him now, smooth and pink with downy hair around the rim. There was the distinct smell of Dial soap coming from it, suggesting that he had in fact washed. Underneath that was a musky, not unfamiliar smell. He let his face graze Nate’s smooth cheeks.
“I can’t wait to taste your ass, baby,” he said, moaning. Nate backed up abruptly and his asshole made contact with Carl’s nose.
“Oh, shit,” Nate said. He lay flat and looked back at Carl. “Sorry.”
“It’s what I wanted, Chad,” Carl said, and Nate backed up again, but Carl couldn’t think of anything else to do. So he just sat back in the beanbag chair. Nate put his underwear back on carefully and remained on his stomach for a good ten minutes. Carl’s boner was tucked underneath his waistband. His nose seemed to burn from the contact.
He left after Nate’s family returned, and when he jerked off that night he tried to time it so that they would be doing it at the same time.
Mario was supposed to drive them to the comic book store one day but backed out at the last minute. So Nate and Carl went walking along the tracks. They then veered off into a clearing in the woods. They were farther away from home than they should have been, but they knew the tracks were behind them as they continued deeper in.
At first the sun strobed through the trees but as they went farther—and only later in life did Carl question why they’d walked so far—the sunlight got watery and weak.
Carl was getting ready to ask Nate whether they should turn around when they saw the shack. It was small, a lean-to, wooden and decrepit, and it sat in the middle of the forest as if it had grown there. The door in the front was cracked open. Nate crept toward it.
“What if there’s somebody in there?” Carl whispered. Nate got closer. He pushed the door and it creaked as it swung in. Carl saw only a pool of dark beyond the frame. Nate peeked inside and motioned for Carl to join him. Carl did, hearing every stick and leaf crunch under his feet.
On the floor of the shack was a gray mattress, half folded against one wall and littered with dead leaves. On top of it was a billiard cue.
“Holy shit,” Nate said as he stepped inside. “Look.” He pointed to one corner. Stacked there were porno magazines, at least twenty of them. Nate picked up a stack. “These are weird,” he said. They weren’t the garishly colored covers of the newsstand porno magazines. They were dark and murky with foreign titles. The cover creatures were enclosed in latex and masks and gagged with red balls.
“We need to get back,” Carl said, but Nate was already rolling up four magazines and trying to stuff them down his pants.
“Help me,” Nate said. He handed Carl the roll of magazines and lifted his shirt, holding out the waist of his pants. At the last minute he held out his underwear waistband too. “That should hold them better,” he said. Carl looked down. Even in the dim light he could see Nate’s cock, soft and nestled in the cup of his briefs. He knew that Nate knew he was looking. He slid in the magazines. Nate lowered his shirt.
“You take some too.” The ritual was repeated. Nate took his time, rolling and rerolling the magazines to make them tighter, and unabashedly looking into Carl’s pants. “Let’s go,” he said once he had them inside.
They stepped outside the shack. The woods were even darker. And just there in front of them was a man. He was lying facedown on the ground, and how they’d missed him before was a mystery. He was wearing a white shirt and maybe pants. He was motionless, but that was all they saw because Nate took off running and Carl followed. They ran with a fear greater than any they’d ever known, until they were back on the tracks and back in the light.
“He was dead,” Nate said when they’d gotten a comfortable distance away.
“Are you sure?”
“He wasn’t moving,” Nate said, and that was true, though Carl later seemed to remember an empty bottle lying nearby.
They got back to Nate’s house but crept behind the garage to where his dad kept a metal barrel for burning. They put the magazines in the barrel, showered them with lighter fluid, and lit them. As the pages disappeared Nate took his dick out and peed on the fire. Carl took his out too. Though typically pee-shy, he was able to let go just then. Their urine hit the flames and evaporated. They burned the pile until there was no trace.
Once home Carl sat on the living room chair and took off his shoes. His dad and sister were in the kitchen carving a pumpkin. On his socks were black burrs from the woods. They were dark and insectlike, with twin prongs that attached themselves to the fabric. He picked them off one by one.
What ended Carl and Nate’s friendship a year or so later was unremarkable, being merely the period on a sentence that had well since finished its thought. Their sleepovers had tapered off, as their flirtation had begun to carry too much weight. They’d gained new friends, Nate with boys and Carl with mostly girls. They ignored each other throughout high school.
Carl wanted to walk to his house sometimes, just ring the bell, and see if it could be like it was. He wanted to ask Nate about the shack and parse its mysteries. He wanted to parse Nate’s mysteries too, Nate who’d developed into a wholly handsome and desirable young man, even if he never seemed to have a girlfriend.
Instead Carl walked into the alley behind Nate’s house at night, holding a paper bag. There was a small factory just across the alley from Nate’s backyard. The factory made burial vaults, those thick concrete boxes that encase caskets when they go into the ground. The gate to the lot was open, the periphery cordoned off by six-foot concrete walls. Most times the lot was deserted.
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