This story was probably the most satisfying and exhausting to write. I remember hearing a whisper of it when it happened and would occasionally think of it from time to time. After starting this journal, I contacted my old friend and she put me in touch with one of the primary characters. In time, I was able to meet the main character who agreed to share with me his thoughts at the time, as long as I did not use actual names or give away any details which would expose him. After providing a sample, the primary character agreed and was even more forthcoming with the details. He told me later that the entire process was therapeutic. Enjoy.

Gina

“Hello?”

“Hello, Gianni? It’s me. I wanted to see if anyone would be home before I headed over.”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

It had been about a month since my breakup with his sister, Gina. And, clearly, I still wasn’t fully over it. We’d dated each other for nearly a year after meeting at work some time before that. But it was over now and I was slowly coming out of the gloomy aftermath. There was something about a physical relationship that made it that much tougher to end.

In retrospect, I ignored the warning signs as it was coming to an end. She was returning to grad school and we’d spent her last weeks and days together. A week later, my calls slowly going unreturned, I tried to hope for a dialed-down, long-distance relationship. When that faded, I held out hope for possibly a once-in-awhile fling, maybe something to keep our flame alive.

Our last episode put an end to that. She had moved into the graduate student housing down in Bloomington, a two-plus-hour drive away, and I somehow thought that if I visited her personally, perhaps she would see my commitment and keep our relationship alive.

I left work early that day, telling my section group that I had an afternoon dentist appointment. This would allow me to get out of the office park and head down the interstate before the afternoon traffic clogged it all. In my Jeep Cherokee, I had all the physical remnants of our relationship: photos, ticket stubs from events we attended, notes to each other – any memento from the time we spent together – all in a bag in the car with me. I had memorized the route and in just over two hours later, I pulled off the interstate, made my way through the local roads leading to the campus and found the graduate student dorms where she was now living.

It was a few low-slung residential buildings, surrounded by pine trees and worn parking lots. I pulled into the lot and up to the middle dorm. It was quiet, with the low buzz of a few air conditioners in the late-summer heat. Scouting the area, it appeared nearly vacant; only a few cars remained in the small lot. From my seat, I observed the exterior door to her apartment. I stepped out and shut the door quietly before approaching her door and knocking, bracing myself in case a guy answered. After a few moments, she appeared. Although she was slightly surprised, she was clearly not at all happy to see me.

I recall her letting out a tired sigh, almost as if she were dreading this moment.

I can’t remember much of our conversation, but it was uncomfortable for both of us. It’s not as if you can argue someone back into liking you. Conversing in the small sitting area, we talked ourselves into circles. It didn’t help matters that she wore a loose tank top and shorts, revealing her dark olive skin and petite build, reminding me what I’d be losing. She tried to explain that she couldn’t return my calls because she was busy. I gestured at her trash can full of empty beer bottles, the apparent remnants of the night before. Obviously, she wanted to move on and I was still attached to her. After a few stilted minutes, I gave up, returned to my car to retrieve the bag of memories and dropped it at her feet. With that gesture, I conceded. Our relationship was over, and with eyes watering, I pulled out of the lot and headed back to the highway for the long drive home.

I swung between sadness, anger and depression for the next few days, and consciously avoiding others, as I felt myself a hair’s breadth away from tears when a thought of her came to mind. Once I accepted the loss of her physical touch, I began the slow path to emotional recovery. Working late and exercise help to fill the emptiness. And avoiding scenes that would prompt memories also helped.

So it went for a couple weeks as I struggled to return to normal. Catching up with friends helped, but with so many of them couples, it was difficult avoiding the sense of becoming the third wheel. During that time, I found a few items of hers that didn’t make the trip to her: a sweatshirt, a pair of shorts, some socks, some underwear. I gathered them up and kept them in a shopping bag intending to return them to her house at some point. A complete clearing of all things related to her was best, I reasoned.

Eventually, I worked up the nerve and called her brother one afternoon almost three weeks later.

“Hey Gianni, it’s Ted. Listen, there’s a few things I need to drop off over there, mind if I came by tomorrow afternoon, around five?”

“Sure. I’ll be here.”

Over the past several months, we’d become friendly towards each other. We took Gianni out with us more a few times, to baseball games or festivals, and he seemed to warm up to me. He was on good terms with the athletic coaches at his nearby high school, so a few times he was able to get us into the gym to use the courts and even the pool. He wasn’t imposing as an athlete, but he did run cross country, so he was a good training partner for our runs, which we did a few times together. Naturally shy, he didn’t seem to have many friends. I figured that it was possibly because he didn’t have a brother, or that his father didn’t seem to interact with him much. Whatever the reason, we bonded well and didn’t have the awkwardness that sometimes comes with the boyfriend/girlfriend dynamic.

After work the next day, I drove down to their house: familiar brick ranch at the end of the tree-lined street, Lamon Avenue, consciously suppressing the memories of the past many months as I approached. By now, I hadn’t spoken to her in four weeks, and I’d begun to feel the recovery of our breakup. I rang the doorbell and Gianni opened it, smiled and welcomed me in.

He had the same build as his sister: narrow, lean. Same dark brown hair, smooth complexion, and pronounced dark, Italian features. I even remember her once telling me that she would occasionally wear his jeans when hers were in the wash. And in talking with him, sometimes I would forget that I was talking to him and not his sister.

He welcomed me in and I could see his grandmother sitting quietly in the small kitchen.

“How’s it going?”

“Not too bad, I just wanted to drop some stuff off, I suppose you heard about us by now?”

“Yeah, she said you guys were … taking some time apart.”

It sounded like a phrase she might use.

“Yeah, a little. I just wanted to return some things of hers in case she needed them.”

I had left the sweatshirt and shorts on top of the bag, her underwear tucked on the bottom, just in case someone were to peek inside.

“You can just leave it here by the closet. Were you coming from … work?” He noticed my attire of a t-shirt and shorts.

“Yeah, but I changed before I left. Figured I’d go for a run along the river trail.”

“Oh, okay. How’s your training going? Are you playing rugby again?”

“Yeah, we just started up again, that’s why I gotta get myself into shape.”

“How about you? When’s your season starting?”

“Nah, I haven’t run since … I dunno, maybe a month or so ago.”

I realized that it was probably the last time we had gone together.

“You want to go today? Are you busy?”

His eyes lit up, “well, I just have to be around to watch her,” nodding his head towards his grandmother. “She fell the other day, and I gotta keep an eye on her for the day while everyone is out.”

“Forty minutes?”

He grinned. “Mmmm, let me check.”

He went to the kitchen and told her that he’d be out for a while, then went to his room and changed into his shorts and shoes.

Leaving my car parked, we headed out together along the streets to the trail, a crushed-gravel path about a half mile away, and from there we took it north as it winds along the north branch of the river, up to the edge of the community college campus, and where, if you were lucky, you might catch one of the teams playing on their fields. We then made our way east through the leafy portion of the campus giving us some relief from the hot sun, then back along the streets south to the lower end of the trail, then back up the trail and to his house. All in, it was about seven miles and, at with good pace, took us just over 50 minutes to complete. Gianni surprised me by staying with me the entire way.

“You sure you haven’t been working out?” I asked, as we staggered around the outside of his house.

“Not in a while,” he replied with a smile, shaking his head.

“You want to come in for a drink?”

“Yeah, sure, beer if you have it.”

“No,” he laughed, “I don’t think we have any beer. Maybe a water or a lemonade?”

I followed him into the house. It was quiet now. He went to check on his grandmother and returned from the hall and said in a hushed tone “she’s taking her nap.”

He got out some glasses and poured us some ice water while we stood in the small, sun-lit kitchen. I noticed that I was dripping sweat onto the tile floor.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. Here,” he ripped a paper towel from the roll and dropped it to the floor.

“We could head out to the patio,” I suggested. In the previous months, particularly after a workout, Gina and I would linger out back, finding it a easier than the somewhat cramped kitchen.

We headed out the door to the backyard: a small, fenced-in area with a picnic table and a pair of reclining chairs. We took a seat at the table, which allowed me to continue to sweat profusely without making a mess of the kitchen floor.

Over a pitcher of water, we talked about workouts, sports, school. All the while, we both were careful not to mention the obvious, his sister. As much as it seemed he didn’t socialize much, I found him to be enjoyable to be around. In fact, I thought that this was one of the things that I would miss from my breakup with his sister.

As I finished my glass, I noticed the sweat begin to dry, leaving an uncomfortable feeling.

“Gianni, mind if I rinse off with the hose?”

“No, go ahead.”

I turned the spigot and adjusted the spray to give me a quick, refreshing shower over my wet running clothes.

“Hang on a second, I got some dry clothes in my trunk. Can I get you a beer?” In the past, we’d usually ignore the age matter in that regard.

He grinned. “Sure.”

I came back with two tall cans of beer and a pair of dry cargo shorts.

“Here you go,” I handed him the cans, before stepping back. “Excuse me a moment while I change.”

I quickly pulled off my wet shirt and running shorts in quick motion, leaving me naked for a brief moment before slipping back into my dry shorts. It wasn’t something I thought much about, just a byproduct of a sporting lifestyle. I wrung out my shorts and shirt before hanging them over the back of one of the chairs and rejoining him at the table.

We cracked open our cans, toasted to our run and downed a big gulp. It was refreshing, despite being a tad warm.

“Ahh, that hits the spot, doesn’t it?”

He nodded, a broad grin creasing his face.

We talked a bit about the car he was restoring in his garage, a ‘70 Camaro that he bought the previous summer. With about six months of work into it, he was at least another six months before he’d have it road-ready. We talked a little about sports, the next race I’d plan on running in and his running for his school team.

As we finished our beers, we parted. I wished him well in his upcoming season and offered to run with him if he was up for it again.

“Thanks, maybe I will.”

“Okay, then. See you soon.” I gave him a quick hug as I left before heading back up the highway home.

I thought about him as I rode home alone: from our conversation, he almost seemed to regret the breakup more than his sister, as we’d developed a bond from our time spent together. Even I missed that portion of the relationship as well.

Early the next morning, I noticed a familiar number on my phone. Even before getting out of bed, I hit the redial.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Hey Gianni, it’s me. Did you call?”

“Yeah, I did. You left your shirt and shorts here last night.”

“Oh thanks. Um, maybe I can swing by and pick them up.”

“You mean for a run?”

“Sure, if you’re up for it. How’re you feeling today?”

“Pretty good, you?”

Something about his tone made me sense that he was eager to hang out again.

“Well, just tell me when.you want to go again.”

“Today?”

“Okay. What time?”

“I’ve got to do some work cleaning up. Three okay?”

“Three it is. See you then.”

Maybe

I spent the morning gardening around the house, part of an unspoken deal I had with my parents for living in the house rent-free. Since graduating college nearly two years prior, I’d returned home and taken the best job I could find: working in the trading operations division of a large corporate banking firm. The position offered just what every young professional needed: an impressive title and a chance to build the resume. The only downside to it was probably it’s location: in the suburbs well outside the city where most of the action for young adults was centered. This meant for me that my best living option would be to move back in with my parents.

While I enjoyed my freedom, and they were more than lenient in that regard, I also enjoyed the lack of an infuriating commute. My morning route took slightly over fifteen minutes and the evening went even quicker.

Once I finished up the mowing, the hedges and the tree trimming, I broke for lunch and finished by setting the garage in order. By then, I was ready to head down for my workout with Gianni.

He was ready and waiting in his shorts and shoes as soon as I pulled up to his house. We soon took off on much the same route as the day before, albeit at a slightly improved pace. Nearly an hour later, we arrived back at his house, this time nearly completely spent and staggered directly to his back yard.

“You ever come out here to sunbathe?”

“Sunbathe?” he looked at the lounge chairs I was staring at. “Oh, those. No, we just have them around for hanging out back here.”

As we did the day before, we drank the beer we’d brought in from my trunk, while icing down the next round in the freezer. We quickly finished and Gianni headed back inside to grab two more cans. I moved over to the pair of reclining chairs, pulled off my shirt and hitched up my shorts as high as possible and leaned back and closed my eyes. With it now nearly 80° and sunny, I’d hoped the chair would offer some comfort.

He came out a moment later and looked at me puzzled.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting some sun.”

“Like that?”

“Well, trying to avoid tan lines if you’d really like to know.”

“What, seriously?”

“Yeah seriously. Feel free to join me if you’d like.”

At this point, I probably should point out that I had a small sense that maybe he wasn’t quite as hormonally-crazed as the average teenage boy. Nothing severe, of course, but it was something of an inside joke between his sister and me.

“Hey, you know, our neighbors are out,” he announced. “Want to check out their pool?”

“Are you serious? Yeah.”

He led me around to the side of the house and through a space between the fence and their house. Once there, I noticed the drawn shades inside all the windows.

“They usually ask for us to keep on eye on their place when they go out of town.”

In the back, they had a small, tight pool, just good enough for taking a cooling dip. As soon as I set my beer down, I kicked off my shoes and dropped myself into the water, submerging my head before coming up for air. “Aw, wow!” I felt the cooling rush all over myself. “This is just what I needed.”

Gianni laughed at me.

“Hey, you’re sure they’re out of town, right?”

He gave a nod and I responded by pulling off my soaked shorts and wringing them out before throwing them to the deck. He gave me a surprised look, but I had a sense that he wanted to be encouraged to follow.

“Hurry up, water feels great now.”

I wasn’t sure how he would respond to the invite, but seeing him there, I figured this might be the only chance for either of us. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen me, as we’d shared a locker room at a pool, and I didn’t make any attempt to cover myself around him. On those occasions, he didn’t seem hurried to look away as I recall. But it was the first time I had seen him. He still had that youthful build: lean, slender. In a flash, he pulled off his shirt, socks and shorts before quickly jumping into the pool

“Feel good?”

“Yeah, it does, especially after a run,” he smiled.

We relaxed against the wall for a bit, the water giving us some modesty, sipping our beer, letting the water cool down our muscles.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” I replied

“Why’d you and my sister break up? I thought you two were a couple.”

I sighed. “I still don’t know. It wasn’t my idea, that’s for sure. I guess since she’s so busy with school now, she doesn’t have time for a relationship, much less a long-distance one.”

“You guys couldn’t make it work?”

“No, I tried. Really, I did. And it hurt me that she didn’t want to keep it going, because we’d shared a lot of good times together. Even got along well with you. But, you know, if she doesn’t want to, there’s not much I can do about it. The hardest part was realizing that.”

After several minutes, now feeling sufficiently cooled, I pulled myself up and sat on the warm concrete, letting the sun dry me off. With much of my free time from the past few weeks devoted to fitness, I was now back below 170 pounds and felt leaner and fitter than I could recall.

Gianni lingered in the pool for a few minutes before I noticed him getting restless.

“If you get too cold it’s probably because they turned the heater off when they went away. You can always hop out. It’s warm up here.”

He seemed relieved at my welcome and he did, taking a seat to the side of me, both of us with our feet over the edge in the water. Almost immediately, the scene provided us a physiological comparison. The most striking difference soon became apparent. While I was comfortable with my size, I was clearly out-classed by my younger friend. With his narrow hips and long legs, even in his relaxed state he hung down to his upper mid-thigh.

“Man, she wasn’t kidding,” I blurted out inadvertently.

“What?”

“Your sister. She told me that you were pretty well endowed … I guess she saw you once?”

“She told you about that?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to embarrass you, she seemed pretty proud of it, though.”

He laughed, thankfully freeing us of the moment.

“Come to think of it, maybe that’s why she broke up with me,” I joked, bringing a laugh to him.

“Hey, um, can I ask you something personal?”

“Yeah, sure, go ahead,” I replied.

He shook his head. I sensed that he’d grown nervous over his thought and backed off.

“Come on, go ahead. What do you want to ask?”

He took a short breath. “Was there ever a time for you when, you know, you weren’t into girls too much?”

“I suppose. It’s hard to figure. Sometimes I am. A lot. But then there are other times, not so much. I guess now, it’s not so much.”

He nodded.

“How about yourself?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Sometimes, I am,” he paused, “but then other times …”

“And?”

“And …” he got flustered and couldn’t finish.

A moment later I realized what he was trying to say, but wasn’t able to bring himself to finish. I sighed deeply. It wasn’t something that I’d expected to present itself to me, but, at this moment in time, it did.

“Are you saying you’re not into girls?”

“No, it’s not that. I mean, I like girls. Really, I do. I’m friends with a lot of them. I probably could, you know, get with them if I really wanted to. Some of them would probably let me do it. But …”

He paused for a moment.

“But what? Nothing says you have to if you’re not up for it.”

“No, it’s not that,” he began. “It’s kinda why I don’t want to go out this season.”

I looked at him.

“I was in the showers after a practice and I kinda got excited.”

I smiled and shook my head.

“Bad place for that to happen, huh?”

“Has that happened to you?”

I laughed. “I’ve had that happen in class, at dinner, in the car … pretty much everywhere, but I guess I should be thankful it didn’t happen there. But it just as well could have.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. You’re washing yourself and if you’re not careful … bam! You’d better hope there’s a towel nearby.”

He laughed.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. If anything, I’d take it as a compliment.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Seriously?”

“If that had happened, I might feel a bit obligated to him,” I added.

A few seconds passed and I noticed he started to grow. Our conversation clearly had an effect on him and the nervousness had given way to the arousal.

“I don’t know,” I continued, still laying on my back, “I guess it might be fun to try at least once. How about you?”

He laughed, then paused, testing to see if I were kidding him. As I remained silent, he finally replied “maybe” in a soft voice.

With that I realized he’d just given me permission and I leaned up from my seat next to him. “Well,” I said, “if you want me to, I will, but I just don’t want to ruin our friendship over it.”

He nodded. “No, it’s okay.”

I gave him a smile. “Cool. But not a word to anyone about it. Same goes for me.”

“Okay,” he grinned nervously.

I leaned up and stepped back into the shallow water positioned myself between his legs. Like his sister, he tanned well and his legs were nearly as smooth. I began by sliding my hands up his bare thighs a few times while he relaxed and continued to harden. It would only be a few seconds before he lifted from his thigh and began standing free by itself. After a few strokes, I approached his groin, lightly grazing him as I did, before venturing past and running my hands around his pubic area. Cautiously, I took hold of him at the base.

“We still okay?”

He nodded.

“Okay. Now don’t laugh because I haven’t done this before.” And with that I began stroking him, my hand feeling as if I were stroking myself, but a fuller version. As I did, I could see the foreskin of his uncircumcised head pulling down the shaft. I quickly licked my hand and returned it, feeling him slide along. After several sweeps, I did it again, checking for any hesitancy from him. With none coming, I opened my mouth and I continued for another moment before leaning in again, this time finally letting my lips touch his head. I looked up to see if he noticed, half-worried he’d pull back, but instead heard him let out a soft gasp.

With that, I opened my lips and let the head slide in, running my tongue around it, before closing my lips around his shaft again. I felt a mixed sense of fear and euphoria to have crossed the barrier, his warm member filling my mouth.

Holding him there, I steadily stroked him for a couple minutes, until I began to hear his breath growing shorter while I increased the tempo. He let out a soft moan just as the first of his several spurts began to fill my mouth, a warm saltiness mixing with my saliva and sliding down my throat – for some reason I told myself I wanted this to prove myself. I continued for several moments, before releasing him and pulling back.

“How was that?” I asked.

He tried to respond, but couldn’t: he lay back to the deck quietly and murmured to himself.

I pulled myself out of the pool and re-took my seat next to him and waited for him to recover.

After a minute, I asked him “you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Didn’t hurt, did it?”

“No. Not at all. Why?”

“Sounded like you were crying there.”

“No, not like that. It was just … really intense. I guess I wasn’t prepared for that. I didn’t think you would, you know, use your mouth.”

I laughed. “Sorry, I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“No, it was. I mean, it just surprised me, you know, all of the sudden, I couldn’t even speak it was so …”

“Good?”

“Yeah. Really good. Overwhelming. You’re not kidding me, that was your first time?”

“Well, yeah, to be on that side of one. I guess I had a pretty good teacher.”

He laughed, realizing I was referring to his sister.

As I looked at his slender body next to mine, my nerves began to settle a bit and I felt a tingle begin to form. Although I didn’t want to push him, I was hoping that he’d take some initiative naturally. After a minute, he looked over at me.

“Um, did you want me to…?”

“Only if you want. But I’m not going to stop you. It’s a free pass today.”

Sitting up, he took a sip of his beer before darting his eyes around the area.

“How should I do it?”

“Up to you, I guess.”

He stepped back into the pool and took a position between my legs; just then I felt myself begin to grow. I gave him a smile and leaned back. For a moment, I could feel him stroking my legs before working his way up to my groin and taking hold of me, just as I’d done with him. I didn’t want to look at him, instead letting myself relax. I could feel the sensations beginning to build before the warmth and the softness of his mouth surrounded me. Initially, I feared that I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it due to my nervousness, but was quickly relieved of that. Within minutes, I felt myself nearing conclusion.

I leaned up and looked down at him. “I’m about to …” placing my hand on his head. But just then I saw myself embedded in his lips and I lost control. I expected him to pull back in disgust, but he didn’t. He actually stayed there, sucking harder, and used his hand to pump out the last from me.

I watched in amazement as he pulled his lips off me before letting go.

“Sorry, didn’t mean keep stop, just had to swallow. Was that okay?”

I started to answer before breaking into a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, that was okay. Maybe a bit more than okay,” I couldn’t stop my giggle.

“Serious?”

I laughed. “You’re good. Really good.”

He laughed back at me. “Yeah.”

He took his seat again and lay back quietly.

I looked over at him and saw his thin, relaxed body. In many ways, he was better looking than his sister: longer, slimmer legs, a firmer torso, a nicer tan, hardly any body hair, probably a bit less. I began to wonder what he was thinking at the same time. Was he worried? Scared? That is, until I heard the soft snore coming from his mouth. Amazing, I thought, how could he be so relaxed to fall asleep so quickly afterwards? I looked down at my own limp member and could still see it glistening from his saliva.

A half hour later, after quietly sipping my beer and letting my thoughts wander, I heard his snoring stop and looked over to see him open his eyes.

“C’mon,” I announced “I’m hungry, let’s go get something to eat.” We returned to his side of the fence, got dressed and headed off in my Jeep.

Part of the reason I wanted to get out of there was so that he wouldn’t start thinking and become upset, the other was for my own benefit.

As we drove out, windows down, and the sounds of Kenny Chesney leading us along, I laughed to myself as I thought back to the struggles I’d gone through the previous months. As it became clear that she’d be leaving for grad school, we somehow entered into a phase of denial between us. Perhaps she’d been more aware than I as it became clear our relationship would end, but I didn’t want to face reality.

And there was my own matters I thought. At this I smiled. I’d never considered doing what I’d just done. Even the thought was repulsive, I reminded myself. Among friends and coworkers, I was usually one of the first to show disgust with anything or anyone of the sort. Disgusting. Wrong. Immoral. In college, all that was needed to set someone beyond the pale was to suggest he might not be fully attracted to women.

Well, that’s gone, I reminded myself. I’d done it. With a guy. I began to rationalize it all in my head: anxiousness, confusion, drinking, he was a proxy for his sister. I even thought of some of the girls my friends had dated: Gianni was better looking than them, I reasoned. Doubtful that any of them would agree with me, though. With my mind at ease now, I turned off at the next exit.

.

I decided we’d head over to a familiar neighborhood tavern just inside the city limits. For years I had gone there with my buddies after our rugby games or practices. Somewhat dingy inside, full of regulars, a blue-collar place that served a thick hamburger for $5 and draft beer for $2. I’d taken Gina there on several occasions.

As I pulled into the lot, he asked “Is this a bar? You know, because I’m not twenty-one yet” Gianni said.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be okay.”

We rolled in the front door and a busy Saturday crowd greeted us. Television screens of football games surrounded us and the bar was packed full of almost all guys, mostly large. Softball teams and their friends clustered about. A large room on one side held the pool table and a the main room held the long wrap-around bar. Gianni was a bit tentative as he walked in. I led him to a table surrounded by three barstools and we sat down. I looked around and noticed several familiar faces, some old teammates who I greeted with a nod.

The owner’s daughter, Denise, was there. A sharp blonde with an even sharper wit, she had been a topless dancer before becoming a stewardess, and now she was back to running this tavern. She finally settled down a couple years prior, but her bawdy tone never changed. As Gianni looked at the menu, she came over to the table and greeted us.

“Oh, hello, is the kitchen open,” I mockingly asked her. Most of the time, she was the kitchen.

“Yes, I’m Denise and I’ll be your waitress this evening,” she shot back, “would you like to see our wine list?”

“Oh, no thank you, we’d like a couple of beers, as we’re out celebrating this afternoon,” I said.

“Celebrating what?” she looked at me, ready for a punchline.

“Well, my friend here just got his first blowjob today, what would you recommend?”

Gianni looked up at us with horror in his eyes.

“Well, for you two guys, I’d go with a gin martini. Helps get the taste out of your mouth! Ha!”

She walked away, leaving Gianni with a stunned look on his face.

“She’s got a great sense of humor, doesn’t she?” I laughed. He began realizing that he’d been pranked by the two of us. Denise came back a moment later, with two pints and two shot glasses full of pink liquid.

“Here ya go, guys. Your buddy here looked like I insulted him. The shots are on the house.”

“Thanks, Denise. What are the shots?”

“Slippery Nipples.”

“Ah, to remind me of our time together,” I teased her. “Thanks Denise, you’re a sweetheart.”

I put in the order for two house cheeseburgers and Denise left us. We picked up our shots, toasted each other, “congrats” I said. He smiled and sipped the shot.

Above us, on the televisions, played a variety of college football games. Gianni seemed to enjoy the atmosphere. With the noise loud enough and the crowd focused on the games, I figured he couldn’t get too emotional in public.

“How’s your burger?” I asked him

“Great, thanks. It’s really good. How do you know about this place?”

“I used to come here with my team.”

“Really?” I sensed he enjoyed coming out as a regular guy.

“After practice, after games. Not really the place you’d take a girl you’re trying to impress.”

He laughed to himself at that.

“Remember you sister’s friend, Lori?”

“Yeah, you mean, Lori?” he cupped his hands in front of himself.

“That’s the one. See that picnic table outside?” He looked out the small window overlooking the beer garden. “Came back here after a game with your sister and her and my teammate Jim and her hit it off. A while later, we’re ready to leave, wondering where she went, I look outside and she’s lying on that table, legs in the air, with Jim bangin’ her.”

He laughed aloud at the image.

“Sounds like Lori.”

I was distracted for a moment, by a crowd of softball players, all wearing the same jerseys, coming into the bar. Among them was a familiar face: Maureen. She was a friend-of-a-friend. Hung around our crowd for awhile. Dark brown hair, pulled back to a ponytail. Big smile across her face, usually a bottle of Miller Lite in her hand. Looking cute today in a jersey and capri pants. She was a friend of Beth who had been married to my friend Pete. It took a moment to piece all the characters back into my mind when she approached the table.

“Hi Maureen!” I responded. “Good to see you again.” I got off my barstool and gave her a brief hug.

“You’re looking good,” I knew how to greet them. “What brings you out today?”

“We were just over there hanging out with some of my friends from college,” she gestured over to a small cluster of people in the poolroom, wearing the blue and gold of Michigan. Maureen was a gregarious girl, actually not too bad looking, but just not my type. At one point, she let it be known that she was interested in me, but I wasn’t available at that moment. On one other occasion several months later, I did make a pass at her at a mutual friend’s wedding, but she was sober enough to turn me aside. Somehow, she knew that I was a bit tipsy and we’d likely regret anything if we pursued it. For that reason alone, I considered her a friend.

“Nice, say, where’ve you been lately?”

“Well, I used to come with Beth. But you’ve heard?”

“Yeah, she and Pete are separated now?”

“Yes, so, she’s not coming around much anymore, so for the meanwhile I’m not coming to the after-game parties much now.”

“Aw, that’s too bad. You know, you are always welcome to come.”

She looked at Gianni.

“Oh, Maureen, this is Gianni. Gianni, this is Maureen.”

He smiled shyly and shook her hand. She looked at me to give some more introduction.

“Friend of mine, workout partners actually,” I casually mentioned to Maureen.

Gianni’s face turned flush. He nervously took a sip of his beer.

“Oh, and how do you know each other?”

“Neighbors,” I answered.

Maureen smiled at him expectantly.

Just then I noticed the ring on her finger. “Hey, what is this?”

She grinned, “you haven’t heard? Not too far off.”

“Oh … congratulations! Let me get you a drink.” I darted over to the bar and returned a moment later. “Here, it’s Jagermeister,’ I handed one to her and another to Gianni.

We downed them and let her re-join her group on the other side of the bar.

After Maureen returned to her crowd, Gianni watched her walk away and leaned over to me.

“How well do you know her?”

“Not as well as you might think. Nice butt, huh?”

He nodded and grinned.

We sat quietly for a while, finishing our burgers and drinks, watching the games and the crowd.

“C’mon. Do you want to get out of here?”

We got up, left a twenty with Denise and we headed for my car.

I pulled back onto the highway and zipped back up to his house. Without speaking, we rode along, accompanied by the sound of the wind drowning out the music from the radio and feeling refreshed from our meal.

Minutes later, as we turned the final corner, I pulled slowly past his house, and saw his father’s car parked outside and a light still on inside. I pulled over quietly. We both realized we’d have to part.

“Okay, might be time to head home,” I mentioned.

“Yeah, I think so.”

He opened the door and stepped out, “okay, thanks again for dinner.”

“My pleasure. Thank you.”

He offered a weak smile and shut the door. I waited for a moment, before starting the engine and pulling away before he entered the house.

Constancy

I recall waking the next morning, feeling better and more rejuvenated than any time in the past month. It was almost as if the cloud of gloom I felt had been lifted that morning.

Sometime during the night, I had kicked off my boxers, leaving me nude. I stood and stretched, standing in the middle of my room. I looked at myself in the mirror: firm and toned, my chest and shoulders looking stronger than ever. My stomach showed the beginning of a 6-pack. I turned, seeing my morning erection pointing upwards as I looked at myself sideways in the mirror. I turned slightly, looking at my butt. Firm, dimpled on the sides. Slightly sunburned. I chuckled at the thought.

I showered quickly, dressed in khaki slacks, a madras shirt and boat shoes and headed down to the kitchen for breakfast. I put a pot of coffee, before noticing a familiar thumping sound above my head. The kitchen was positioned directly below the master bedroom, specifically, the master bed.

I smiled to myself: still at it. Good for them. As I waited for my coffee, my mother appeared in the doorway – glowing and wearing a fashionable skirt, and strode into the kitchen.

“Oh, hello! Good morning!” she said cheerily, and gave me a kiss on my forehead.

“Good morning,” I responded.

She looked at her watch, “c’mon if we leave now, we can catch the early service.”

I sat motionless. For some reason, I feared that she would notice something different in me that morning, as if I had a sign on my forehead.

“Come on,” she smiled.

I joined her, riding along quietly. It was our regular Sunday ritual and, despite my current mindset, I enjoyed spending time together with her.

Back home a bit later, I got my running gear on and took off for my familiar long Sunday route. Up to the high school, about a mile and a half away, 400 repeats to check my pace, before heading the long way around the golf course, eventually leading myself back home.

As I ran, my thoughts turned to Gianni and how I’d approach him again. I figured I’d wait until evening, then tell him that I’d drop by on Tuesday, just so he wouldn’t start going crazy with his thoughts.

“Hello Gianni?”

“Hey!” his voice sounded excited.

“Hope you’ve had a good day today. Listen, I’m going to practice on Tuesday, get out about about 9. Think you’ll be around?”

“Yeah, sure!”

“Okay, you want to meet me outside, just to be cool?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. We can do that.”

“Okay, good. See you then.”

I figured the nearly three days would be good enough for both of us. At work the next day, I had the same feeling: nearly all of my thoughts were of what I’d done over the weekend and, somehow, I worried that my co-workers might notice a change.

“Hey man, how was your weekend?” came the voice over the cubicle wall. It was one of my few friends from my department, Carl. He and I were hired around the same time and had gone through some of the orientation process together. Often, he was my confidant when talking of the women around the office.

“Aren’t you going to ask me about mine?” he prodded me. I could tell by his grin that he’d had another conquest to report. Having known him for as long as I did, it usually involved plenty of alcohol and a female of questionable standards. As he reveled in the details, I nervously fidgeted, thinking about my own condition. Fortunately, our supervisor came around, and his story had to be cut short.

“Later, bud,” he grinned. I nodded and let him leave. For a moment, I thought to myself what his reaction would be if I’d told him. Not a chance that he would believe it, I knew.

On Tuesday, just after nine in the evening, I pulled up to his house. Still muddy and sweaty from practice, it felt strange. As planned, he quietly hopped in the car and I pulled out onto the main street.

“Do you want a beer? I’ve got some cold ones in the back.”

“Yeah, sure,” he smiled.

I pulled over to the darkened baseball fields and shut off the engine before stepping around to the rear and opening the hatch. We sat on the edge with the gate open and opened our beers.

“Mind if I change,” I announced, not waiting for his response. Peeling off my wet shirt, it felt wonderful. I continued, pulling off the wet cotton shorts and jock, leaving myself in socks and running shoes. It was enough to break the ice, without mentioning a thing. He laughed the same laugh his sister did when I pulled the same stunt.

I took a seat next to him and took a long sip from my beer. We sat quietly in the solitude of the night, comfortably surrounded by darkness.

“How’s your beer?”

He shook his head and smiled.

“Um, are you going to just stand there like that? What if someone comes along?”

“You want me to get dressed?” I kidded him.

He laughed with his impish grin, “no, it’s okay.”

“So, you have practice on Tuesdays?” he asked.

“Yeah, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Tuesdays are mostly conditioning and drills, Thursdays are mostly game preparation. How ‘bout you?”

“Monday to Friday, after school. Meets are mostly on Saturday mornings. For varsity.”

“You’re varsity?”

“Trying. Still got another guy to beat out to make the top seven.”

“You should be able to get there. How soon’s the next trial?”

“End of this week.”

“Plenty of time.”

We sipped our beers quietly before I noticed him getting antsy.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he scanned the area, “you think we’re okay out here?”

I smiled.

“Okay for what?”

He reached over and took me into his hand, offering a gentle stroke. “You know. Just making sure.”

We laughed as we looked at each other, my excitement becoming evident to him in the darkness. He pulled himself from his seat and lowered himself between my legs, taking me into his mouth and sloppily working his tongue and hands over me. A few minutes later, I let myself come into him and he finished before retaking his seat next to me.

“That was nice,” I remarked.

He smiled, swallowed and took a sip of his beer.

“Give me a minute,” I was exhausted. I grabbed a pair of jeans and stepped into them, leaving my limp member hanging out.

“Okay, ready to go home now?” He looked at me unsure of himself.

“Just kidding, give me a moment.”

I stepped over to him and leaned him back against the open hatch, set my beer down, and unbuckled his jeans.

I realized that this was the first time I’d undressed another guy. Doing it to his sister had become second nature to me, as I’d often undress her just for fun whenever we were alone, until she fought back. I pulled the jeans and briefs down in one motion, sending his semi-erect member hanging free between us. He let out a sigh. Eagerly, I took him into my mouth, his soft skin quickly responding to my attention. I reached around and felt his butt, smaller and firmer than his sister’s I thought. I held myself to him as he grew, careful not to scrape him with my teeth. Over the next few minutes his breathing grew short, and I increased my tempo. Seconds later, he seized up and I was awarded with a mouthful for my efforts. I gulped it down, more easily than the previous time and re-took my seat next to him.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

“No problem.” I sensed that our actions spoke more than any words might, I limited our conversation to anything but the most conspicuous, figuring the less said, the more agreeable we’d be.

We finished our beers and hopped back into the car, our conversation not necessary, as we rode back to his house.

“Thursday?” I asked.

“Nine?”

“Sure.”

He smiled and nodded.

Divulgence

The get-together in the tavern after the game had a festive air. We had come from behind to beat Springfield RFC, a small, but aggressive side, the first win over them in about three years. As was custom, we treated them to a meal and a keg of beer at our pub. Soon after, their crowd began filtering out, getting back into their cars for the long ride home. It was a great feeling. All of us had played such an exhausting, exhilarating game. We spent hours re-hashing the events of the game and the big plays that put us over the top. Pat and I were sitting by the pool table, watching the game when his fiance, Trish, came in with her friend Maureen. They were dressed for a night out, Trish in her tight jeans, boots and little purse. Maureen wore nearly the same. I always thought it odd that girls would almost be in uniform when they hung out long enough. As Pat and Trish caught up on the day, I occupied myself with Maureen. We poured them both a beer from our pitcher.

After talking to so many guys for the last few hours, I enjoyed the chance to finally talk to someone of the fairer sex.

Maureen was looking pretty nice this afternoon, still glowing from her engagement, no doubt.

We parked ourselves at a small ledge to the side and began to nurse our beers together.

“How’s your engagement going?” I asked.

“Really good, thanks. How’s everything with you?”

“Good, do you have a date for the wedding yet?”

“Four months, after he graduates.”

I hadn’t met him, but I was happy for them both. Apparently they knew each other in college and after some back-and-forth, he proposed to her.

Pat returned from the bar with some type of green shots for the group. We put our beers down on the ledge and, like we’d done so many times before, pretended to throw our heads back when we really dumped our shots into the girl’s glasses.

I don’t think the girls would have minded, even if they did know.

We returned to our conversations. The flush of the drinks began washing over us.

Maureen waited for a lull in the conversation.

“So … tell me what’s going on in your life?” she smiled a broad grin.

“Nothing too much, just work and rugby on the weekends.”

“You break up with that girl?”

“Yeah,” she knew her and was polite enough not to mention her name, “time to move on, I guess.”

She also knew I didn’t feel much like talking about it. Her tone suggested one of friendly encouragement.

“So back looking again?”

“Well, if you’re taking orders …” I joked. My tastes didn’t overlap with her group of friends, we’d known each other long enough. “No, I’m kidding. I figure it’s time for a break. If something comes along, maybe, but I’m not interested in anything new just yet.”

“Mmm hmm,” she nodded. She took a long sip of her drink, casting a quick glance sideways.

“So tell me about this Gianni guy?”

“Gianni? Um, just a guy I met through work, kinda shy, figured I’d get him out a bit more. He’s a nice guy once you get to know him.”

“Oh yeah? He looks kinda young.”

“Yeah, he’s still in school, bit quiet, just needs to get out more.”

She looked blankly at me.

“So, are you trying to fix him up?”

“Well, yeah, a little bit.”

She took a slow sip of her drink. Paused. Then leaned in to me to whisper.

“I know about you two. He told me.”

I was stunned for a moment. I must’ve shown some fear in my face before I could answer.

“Know? Know what?”

She raised her eyebrow slightly, giving me a doubting look.

“About the two of you,” she said in a hushed tone, “told me when you went to the bathroom.”

My heart skipped a beat. I couldn’t respond because of the flash that raced through my mind. How could he? Just deny it. Trying to think, I was drawing a blank. He hadn’t mentioned it that day, or the next, or even Thursday when I stopped by again. She was a foot away from ruining me, a confident grin still on her face. I couldn’t imagine a worse outcome. Finally after a silent standoff, I was able to speak.

“What did he tell you?” Not exactly the best denial response. I felt sick to my stomach. At this point, I was attempting to contain the damage. Maybe I could salvage something. I took a small breath. Considered running out the door, but that would worsen the situation. She be able to tell everyone within a moment. Best to stay and try to deal with it, I figured.

“Knew it,” she responded quietly, a slight smile at the corner of her mouth.

I stared silently at her. She’d bluffed me. I realized that he hadn’t told her anything. Almost certainly. She just tested me with my reaction. And she got it. I fell for it hook, line and sinker. Our pause was just as telling as my response. She held the fate of my life in her hands at this moment and she knew it. And it would take nothing of her to shame me into leaving forever. Certainly would lose this network of friends. I couldn’t begin thinking of what I’d have to do if she spoke to her friend not two feet to her side.

“You’re not going to say anything, are you?” appealing to her mercy.

She smiled, looked around the room. I sat twisting in her thought.

“Please,” I looked into her eyes.

Finally, she spoke.

“I knew something was going on,” she said just enough for me to hear, almost as if to congratulate herself.

I fidgeted with my hands nervously. My mouth agape, the feeling slowly coming back to my senses, I still couldn’t breathe.

After a moment, I replied. “How?”

I looked for a sense of scorn in her eyes. I didn’t notice any. Thankfully. She was probably disgusted by it and didn’t want to push it. I just wanted desperately to find a way to get out somewhat alive.

“I have my ways,” she said slowly, “I’m very perceptive.”

I nodded, hoping that she’d continue speaking.

“You were glowing. Same way when you were seeing that girl.”

I looked down. How could I be so careless, I thought to myself.

We sat silently for a moment. I waited for her to deliver another blow.

“So. How long you two … um … known each other?” she turned it into conventional polite-talk.

“A few months.”

“A few months?”

“Well, or a few weeks.”

She smiled, realizing what my answer meant.

At least she wasn’t laughing and mocking me to the others, I thought. I’ll take her light abuse, gratefully. She knew she could get just about anything she wanted out of him at this point. He realized it to and was willing to submit to her verbal extortion.

“Does anyone else know?”

“No,” my eyes darted nervously around the room. She could see that I was extremely uncomfortable answering her questions near the crowd.

“C’mon,” she motioned me to a quieter corner of the tavern, near the women’s restroom. There being so few women in the place, we likely wouldn’t be interrupted. Much of me wanted to run from the scene, but I reasoned I’d have a better chance of keeping the news from spreading if I stayed with her.

We sat down at the end of the bar.

“Look, no one knows, okay. I’d hope to keep it that way,” my eyes pleading to her.

She finally let me go from her grip.

“Okayyyy,” she said in her sisterly tone, “I’ll keep it our secret.”

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“So how did it happen? I thought you were interested in girls?”

“I was. I mean, I still am. It’s just that …”

She raised her pretty little eyebrows.

I thought about going into a lengthy explanation, that is try to claim it was some type of mistake, a one-time event, anything to deflect blame. Then I thought, she’s been so reasonable with me, maybe I’ll just tell her the truth and she’ll be more sympathetic. I didn’t know where to begin or what details to keep hidden.

I took a deep breath and leaned in close, speaking in a level at which only she could hear:

“I’ve known him for a few months, nice kid, socially he’s shy, I liked him, then I went through an upsetting breakup, and … and it just started.”

“And how’d you meet him?”

“He’s … her sister.”

“Gina’s?” She stared at me open-mouthed. “Oh my …”

“No, you know what I mean. It’s not emotional. It’s just physical.”

“So you’re not dating?”

“No. Not in the traditional sense.”

“No walks along the beach? No romantic dinners?”

I looked down. “No, not really. We, um, just started to …”

She paused for a moment. We both took a sip.

“Hook up?”

I realized I was giving her all the rope she needed to lynch me. But it was too late. Certainly past the point I could deny anything.

“What do you want to know?”

She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, thinking of how to ask.

“What kind of things …” I sensed that she liked the topic and I was willing to indulge her, to a point.

Just – I pointed my tongue in my cheek and made a slight motion to my mouth – she got the point.

“That’s good.”

“What’s that?”

“Saving yourself for marriage,” she smiled at her own joke.

I laughed to myself. She was witty. Maybe I shouldn’t have let her get away.

“Look, don’t breath a word of this to anyone, but I don’t think of this as a long-term thing.”

She looked at me.

“I mean, I don’t know, but I don’t plan on this to be forever. I still like girls. In fact, I don’t like guys other than him.”

We sat in silence for a moment, looking blankly at the screens overhead. I started to think of how I sounded and wasn’t pleased. Sitting across from a pretty brunette, the type of girl who would have made a very socially-acceptable girlfriend.

“Do you want to hear a secret of mine?”

I looked at her, not knowing what to expect.

“I had a little fling in college.”

I paused, thinking so what? Everyone has had a fling in college. But the look on my face indicated that I didn’t get her secret.

“With a girl.”

I lifted my eyebrows in surprise.

“Really?” I gave her a smile, “and …”

“One semester. Junior year. Ran on the cross country team with me. No one knew. Stood up in her wedding last year.”

“Oh …” I tried to process the rapid fire of information, “that sounds …”

Just then Pat stumbled back to us.

“C’mon, break it up you lovebirds. Didn’t you hear? She’s getting married. You missed your chance with her, find someone else,” he kidded us with his big, drunken grin.

We stood and started to rejoin their crowd.

“We’re good, right?” I said.

“I think so.”

“Not a word, right?”

“No, not a word,” she patted my butt. I gave her a thankful smile.

Convinced she would be occupied, I wordlessly slipped out the back exit and made my way home.

I awoke the next morning refreshed — until the memory of our conversation came to mind. Almost as quickly, my mood turned from optimistic to dread.

Sermon

“Knock, knock!”

It was my mother at my door.

She was already dressed in a floral patterned skirt and crisp blouse, setting her earrings. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

I grunted and pulled myself to the edge of the bed, keeping my covers over my lap.

“Five minutes. I’ll meet you in the car.”

I nodded and waited for her to turn before I stood and grabbed a towel. I showered and dressed quickly, passing my parents’ room on the way. Through the crack, I could see my father still lying shirtless in bed, a tell-tale sign he’d fulfilled his duties with my mother already.

It was not what I needed on that morning. But for the next hour with my mother, I sat quietly next to her, hoping my problems would somehow go away. Instead, I half-listened, half-daydreamed of the patience of perseverance. Something told me that my secret wouldn’t be forever secret, but if I managed to approach it right, I’d be able to minimize the effect. Further, I might even be able to come away better and stronger than before.

Afterwards, as we sat in the cramped parking lot waiting for the other cars to clear, we talked about the sermon that day.

“It was okay, I guess. I bit dull. Say, what happened to that young guy we had, the one with the bad jokes?”

“Oh. Ah, he got reassigned.”

I was surprised. He was only there for a short bit, I said.

“Yes, but I guess he had some issues.”

“Like what?” I asked, innocently, figuring it may have been alcohol, as he was always jovial.

“He was a little too friendly with some of the kids.” Then, under her breath, “boys to be specific.”

“Oh.” I was surprised.

“I mean, most of us aren’t going to pry, and some don’t care at all, but when you make it so obvious …”

I smiled to myself. She always seemed much more agreeable on those days my father took care of her. At other times, she could range all the way to the other end of understanding.

Later that afternoon, I headed out for a long run out along the river trail on the side of town. From one trailhead to the other was four miles, and including the half mile over, I would put in just over nine miles total before returning home. As I ran, I was able to clear my thoughts a bit, finally convincing myself not to worry about what might happen. Even my memories of Maureen began to turn as I reasoned her mood was more of playful kidding than anything else.

After showering, I sat on the edge of my bed letting myself dry off and noticed while I was on my run that I had received a call from an unknown number. One suspicion came to mind.

“Knock, knock!”

I looked up to see my mother, now changed into a party dress. “Hey, hon, how was your run?” “Good,” I sat frozen, somehow hoping she’d not see me completely undressed. For some reason, she never seemed bothered by it whenever she dropped by my room.

She smiled. “Hey, just to let you know: you’re on your own for dinner tonight. Your father and I are going to the club for a little get-together with the Dawsons and Sandersons.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Might be some frozen pizza in the freezer. But I figured I’d give you a heads up if you wanted to go out with a friend.”

“Okay, thanks Mom.”

I waited until she turned before standing and shutting the door behind her. I reached into my closet and pulled out the tall bottle of lotion I’d pilfered from the bathroom and gave myself a full-body treatment, before taking a seat to wait for it to dry.

I picked up the phone and hit callback.

“Hello?”

“Gianni? It’s me.”

“Oh. Hey. What’s up?” I laughed. Had he forgotten that he’d called me?

“Nothing much. You go out for a run today?”

“Yeah, with my teammates. Over to the bluffs. It’s pretty hilly and coach thought it would do us some good.”

“Hey, what are you doing for dinner?”

“Nothing.”

“You up for pizza?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, I’ll be by in about half an hour.”

“Cool. See you then.”

I dressed in khaki shorts and a loose sports shirt, making sure to not overdo it with the cologne. Moments after my parents left, I left, headed for Gianni’s.

Gianni, and Gina until recently, lived with their father in a small, somewhat dated, ranch-style house three towns away. At some point years ago, their mother decided she had enough of raising two small children while her husband worked on his degree and she disappeared without notice one day while the kids were at school. I got the sense that they didn’t want to talk of it, but from what little I gathered, she ran off with a guy across the country and made sparse contact with her family over the years.

With the house situated on a corner lot, I had become accustomed to the quiet pickup and dropoff with his sister whenever we didn’t want to be discovered. As I pulled around the final corner, I made a quick pass, before making a u-turn just out of sight of the house. In the distance, I saw a figure appear from behind the tall shrubs and walk toward me down the sidewalk.

“Hey,” he smiled, opening the door and stepping in.

“Hey,” I returned the grin.

I started the engine and pulled out, making certain to not pass the house on our way.

“I was thinking Petterino’s.”

“Sounds good.”

He wore a pair of jeans and loose t-shirt from his high school cross country team. Probably best, I thought. One less thing to raise a suspicion when we were out.

I pulled the Jeep into the lot of the restaurant and found it packed.

“Gah. It’s packed.”

We waited for a spot to open up and walked inside. “

“It’ll be a 45-minute wait,” the hostess reminded us after I put my name down.

“How long to get one to go?”

She smiled.

Fifteen minutes later, we took the pizza back to the car.

“We’ll head back to my house, okay?”

He smiled.

We arrived back and I set us up with plates and beers on the counter in the kitchen before we both tore into the large, greasy sausage pizza.

“You live here with your folks?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I suppose I should start thinking about moving out, but given where I work, I’d only be making my commute longer.”

He seemed to be taking in everything, turning his seat around, looking at the walls.

“It’s nice. Who decorated it?”

“My mother. She’s really into that.” I caught myself pausing, remembering his situation at home.

“Is she home?”

“No, she’s out with my father. Some dinner at the club.”

He nodded, chewing his pizza.

“So, how’s your running going? Going to break the top seven?”

He grinned. “Hope so. Beat out Skyler Mackie today.”

“Is that good?”

“He’s only a state qualifier.”

“Nice. Does your coach know?”

“No. He wasn’t there. Doubt it’ll get back to him.”

“Well, you should find a way to mention it. Not bragging, but you know, just talking about something else and mentioning it.”

“Think it’ll work?”

“It can only help.”

We downed our beers and I returned to the fridge and opened two more. We sat quietly for a moment before I broke the silence.

“So, what time did you tell them you’d be back?”

“Ten.”

He didn’t seem to catch the hint.

“So, how’d you get into running?” I asked.

“Hmm, I joined cross country freshman year to get in shape for basketball.”

“And?”

“Got cut,” he replied as if to state the obvious.

“Well it’s good you kept up with running.”

“Yeah, I guess. How ‘bout you, what sports did you do?”

“Pretty much everything. Football, but I kept getting hurt. So I tried wrestling. That was pretty good. Once I went to college, I joined rugby. Now I just run and do rugby.”

“Cool.”

“You want to see my yearbook?”

He nodded.

We took our beers and headed up the stairs and to the end of the hall and into my bedroom. It was still furnished as if I’d just left for college: dark wood furniture, a pile of clothes over the chair, a desk messy with mail.

I pulled the thick book off my shelf and sat at the edge of the bed, flipping through the pages.

“Here you go,” I motioned him over and he took a seat next to me.

“This is from my senior year,” I announced, holding the pages open.

His eyes scanned along the page until he found my name. The picture was one of standard neat/polite smile that everyone held.

“Ha ha,” he laughed. “Nice haircut.”

“Please. It was pretty good for the time. Check this guy out.” I flipped the pages and landed on one of the few guys who could hold a mullet and look cool at the same time.

“Whoa. What is that?”

“He was in a band. Still see him from time to time.”

He turned the page and came across a pretty girl with long straight brown hair. There was a long note penned next to her picture.

“Who’s this?”

I smiled. “Laura.”

“And?” It was obvious from the smiles and hearts she drew that there was something.

“Went out with her for a bit.”

“Prom?”

“Yeah.”

“Get lucky?”

I laughed at him. “No. She wasn’t like that. We weren’t all that close.”

“Any other girls?”

“You mean that I was with?”

“Yeah.”

I took the book from him and flipped the pages, stopping at one.

“Guess.”

He scanned the page of faces, before pointing at a smiling face. “Mmmm. this one?”

I was amazed. “Yeah. How’d you figure.”

“What happened?”

“Felt her up sophomore year.”

He chuckled. “Next.”

I turned a few more pages before pausing.

He studies them intently before shrugging his shoulders. “Can’t tell.”

I pointed to a girl with blonde hair and an emotionless smile.

“Get out. A blonde?”

“Guess she was the one who turned me off them.”

“What you do?”

“Made out with her junior year. Let me go down on her.”

“And?”

“And nothing. Left me to go home and take care of it myself.”

Gianni laughed hard.

“Anyone else?”

I thought for a moment. “No, not really. I wasn’t too smooth back then.

“You want to see my letterman’s jacket?”

“Sure.”

I rustled into my closet before pulling out a worn blue and green warmup, “Moraine HS” emblazoned on the back.

“Moraine,” he shook his head.

“Let’s go Indians!” I replied, sending a look of mock disgust across his face.

“What’s that?” he pointed to a set of bars on the floor.

I picked it up, “chin up bar” I replied, setting it onto the door frame.

“Cool. How many can you do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe ten. Or twelve.”

“You can’t do twelve.”

I looked at him and smiled.

“I can do more than you.”

“Sure.”

I stepped under the bar and tested it for strength, before pausing and unbuttoning my shirt and setting it aside. I grabbed the bar tightly and used the initial bounce of my knees folding in to start.

“One…two…three… four…five…six…seven…eight…nine…,” I began, knowing that the key was to do as many as quickly as possible before the muscle fatigue set in. “ten….eleven….twelve…..thirteen……..four….” I felt my arms beginning to seize up, “-teen……fif………..teen,” I announced, barely getting my chin within an inch of the bar. I dropped back to my feet and grinned.

“I think it was fourteen, but I’ll give you that last one.”

I stepped aside and let him get situated under the bar. He took several grips on it, before stopping and pulling off his shirt. He grabbed the bar again and dropped his knees. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven,” I realized he knew the trick of going fast. “Eight, nine, ten, …. eleven …. “ I watched as he began to struggle, his lean torso hanging tightly, his jeans barely hanging on his waist, “twelve ….. thirteen …… “ Just then I noticed the top edge of his pubic hair peeked out over the waist of his jeans. No underwear, I thought. “Four….teen,” he paused. As he did, we both realized he made a fatal mistake. I looked up at him and smiled. He looked back helplessly. “Fif……” his struggle becoming evident, he couldn’t recover. He dropped himself back to the floor, his arms and shoulders swollen from the attempt.

“Wasn’t fair,” he spoke between his heaving breathing, “I gave you that last one.”

“I won. Fair and square.”

“Fine.”

“What was the wager again?”

“What?”

“The wager. I won.”

“Whatever.”

“Fine. Your pants.”

“You want my pants?”

I nodded.

He stood and unsnapped them, taking a smile before slipping them down his legs, leaving him standing alone in just a pair of socks.

“Nice,” I kidded him, stepping over and running my hand along his soft member. “Sit back,” I whispered, leaning him back into my bed. He sat and watched as I knelt down and took him into my mouth. It would only take a few minutes before he finished and I crawled up next to him in bed.

“Thanks,” he whispered as we lay in the quiet solitude of my bedroom, slowly darkening as the sun set.

“For what?”

He chuckled. “For everything. The pizza, the beer, this.”

“No problem.”

I felt him slide his hand down into my shorts before unbuttoning them and pulling the waistband down. I lifted my hips and let him slide them all the way off before he began his thanks on me in earnest. I looked down and saw him working his mouth over me.

“Come up here, I want to try something.”

He looked up, puzzled.

“Just come up here.”

He slid his torso up mine and I reached down and pulled his organ into mine, his saliva lubricating us both. “Like this,” I replaced his hands with mine and let him continue. I leaned back, my legs sprawled wide around his, and felt him begin to rotate his narrow hips into mine, as I held us together and he focused himself on his thrusts. Minutes later, his pace quickening, I felt the moment erupting: I spurted first, sending several quick streams across my chest as he watched, amazed.

“Go ahead, finish,” I whispered.

He continued to grind himself away before freezing up suddenly. He looked down to see himself come across me, it mixing with mine.

I pulled him into me, laughing, wrapping my legs around him.

“That was awesome.”

“Yeah,” he panted, his head buried over my shoulder, “it was.”

After a minute, I let him roll off me and we lay side-by-side. I pulled our beers off the nightstand and offered him his.

“You ever think it would be like this?” I asked him.

“No,” he replied with a chuckle, pausing for a moment. “Not at all.”

“How’d you think it would be?”

He stayed quiet.

“Did you think it would be with a guy or a girl?” I continued.

“Girl.”

“Well I never thought this would happen to me.”

“Never?”

“No. Not until you, I guess. But somehow, it’s fun.”

We lay next to each other, uncovered, sipping our beers. As the sunlight slowly dissipated on us, we took turns pleasuring each other, until we finally had to stop from soreness. He started to get dressed before I reminded him. “Those jeans are mine.”

“What, you serious?”

I grinned and handed him my shorts. He took them and slipped them on, fumbling around to tighten the waist. I gave him a polo shirt I’d received from my last birthday. “Here you go.”

I drove him back to his house and dropped him off just before the corner.

“Tuesday?”

“Okay.”

He smiled and got out of the Jeep and I watched as he walked back to his house in my clothes.

Voyeur

My week returned to normal, with a heavy workload keeping me mentally occupied throughout the day. I was able to sneak over to Gianni’s after practice on both Tuesday and Thursday for a short get-together at our nearby park. On Thursday, he mentioned that he had qualified for the top seven on his team, meaning that he’d be running varsity for the first time that weekend. With his race in the morning and my game two hours later, I was able to stop by and watch him compete.

At first, I felt a bit out of place with all the high school boys running past and me being almost the only one of my age there. I was able to give Gianni a quick wave as he huddled before the race with his team. After the gun fired, sending the wave of runners racing across the wide prairie of the forest preserve, I took a spot along the final stretch where the runners would finish.

I overheard two girls standing along the makeshift barrier near me. With the slight breeze in the air, neither of them realized their voices drifted directly over to me.

“You going out with Brandon later?”

“No.”

“Why not? I thought you two were …”

“We were. Until I found out he showed his teammates a picture I sent him.”

“Oh no. What was it.”

She didn’t reply, instead letting her friend realize it was racy.

“Anyway, that’s the last he’ll see.”

I shook my head at the conversation. How times had changed I thought. Then I had the realization I was out supporting my friend, just as they were and my worries were embarrassment, the same as theirs.

The field of runners appeared around the bend and we cheered as they passed. I checked my watch and counted the runners as they passed. Using my old team as a gauge, I counted their finishers while looking for Gianni. He appeared in the distance and aggressively challenged the fifth runner of Moraine on the final straight, narrowly edging past him into the finishing chute.

I waited back in the crowd as the rest trickled in and the scores began to be tabulate. Slipping away from his teammates, he joined me and we exchanged a quick hug.

“Good job in that final kick,” I praised him.

“Thanks. I felt like I was going to ralph after it though.”

“Perfect. It means you measured yourself just right.”

He laughed.

“You know, your final kick may have cut into Moraine’s final score.”

He nodded, “yeah, coach said something like that, seemed really pleased.”

We parted with a handshake and he returned to his team as we waited for the scores to be posted. And, just as we figured, Gianni’s burst past Moraine’s last scoring runner, set them back a point, leaving Glenlake East the winner.

“Good job, Gianni, nice work.”

“Thanks, thanks” he grinned back, clearly happy with his performance.

“I gotta head out to my game now.”

“Okay,” he turned his head quickly, before lowering his voice, “later?”

“I’ll try. Don’t know when we’ll get back.”

With the game about an hour-and-a-half away, we gathered near our practice pitch to carpool out to the game. In Timmy’s truck, we piled five of us in: the two big props in the front and three of us backs in the rear, while our gear was in the bed.

Our opponent that day was a second-division side, Pawnee Valley, who were known to be a chippy bunch of players and their dry, dusty field was no better. The game hadn’t been five minutes in before one of their backs took one of ours down by his collar, causing a minor skirmish. They kept their nastiness up, trying to derail us from our skilled play, figuring it would be the only way to stay in the game with us. We led 14-3 at the half and they came out bent on punishing us. I took a pass and made a long run along the sideline before passing it cleanly to my teammate. Nonetheless, their defender threw a shoulder into me, sending me sprawling out of bounds. With the ball still in play, I headed back out with an eye for retaliation. Moments later, he carried the ball into a ruck and I was able to wrap my arms around him, yanking and twisting his shorts upwards. He dropped the ball and turned and swung at me, glancing his fist off my head.

We tumbled to the ground, with the ref blowing his whistle loudly. He pulled us apart and called us aside. I was expecting him to send him off, but he decided to send us both off in effort to calm the play. With us ahead comfortably, I made a show of a protest before walking back to my sideline. In fact, I was happy to be off the field, figuring only injury would result if I were to stick around.

With a victory in hand, we headed back to their pub where they treated us to beer and a buffet of food. Soon I came across my tormentor and gave him a nod.

“Sorry, mate. You okay?”

“Yeah, sent me into the coolers with that hit.”

“Sorry, got there late on you. Got to keep my side aggressive if we’re to have any chance in this league.”

I offered a grin. “No worries. Thankfully you missed with that punch.”

“Ah, it was just for show. Couldn’t finish the game if I wanted.”

We continued to chat a bit before a face across the bar surprised me. She wandered over.

“Hey.”

“Hey Maureen, what brings you out?”

“My folks live out this way now.”

“Oh, nice. Where’s your beau?”

“Still in Ann Arbor. You got anyone to keep me company?”

I laughed. “I already tried.”

She smiled back at me.

An hour later, the keg having run dry and the food table cleared, I saw my ride making time with a local girl. I figured I’d be there another two hours if I waited.

“You going back now?” I asked Maureen, my bag slung over my shoulder.

“You need a lift?”

“If you have room.”

“Sure, it’s just me and Karen,” she nodded to her girlfriend standing nearby.

We headed out to Maureen’s car and Karen took the back seat, stretching herself out before putting her headphones on. I took the front, next to Maureen, and we headed off to the highway. After a brief stop for gas, by which Karen had fallen asleep, we landed ourselves on the interstate and began our long drive. After running through a handful of stations, the radio drifted off, and I shut it off.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Maureen began.

“Good.”

“No, I mean,” she glanced in the rear view mirror, “she’s out. I mean with your friend. What’s his name?”

“Gianni. Good.”

“Come on, tell me. You guys getting along all right?”

“Yeah, I suppose so.“

“Better than with Gina?”

I chuckled, “yeah, maybe, they’re a lot alike.”

“Does she know?”

“No. No one does.”

“How about him? Is he able to keep his mouth shut?”

“Most of the time,” I joked. She looked over and smiled.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“How’d it start? Did you two just look at each other and begin making out or something?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Tell me.”

I gave her a very brief version of our first afternoon together. She seemed to enjoy it immensely, as I could see her fidget in her seat.

“Sheesh, you’re going to make me drive off the road.”

“Sorry.”

“But he’s only in high school. Doesn’t that worry you a bit?”

“No more than this conversation. He’s pretty quiet.”

“You sleep with him yet?”

“Sleep? No.”

“No, I mean …you know.”

“Just what I told you.”

“Are you going to?”

“I don’t think so.”

By now, we’d entered the outskirts of the city and Maureen announced that we’d be dropping off Karen at her home on the north side. After rousing her awake, she thanked us and staggered out and up to her apartment.

“You got anything planned tonight?” she asked.

“No, not really. Probably just heading home.”

“Let’s go out to eat.”

“You’re hungry again?”

“No, I mean with your friend.”

“Oh, I don’t think …”

“Come on. I got the company card and we can go out.”

“I wasn’t even planning on.”

“Just give him a call.”

I ignored my better judgement and punched in his number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Gianni, it’s me. I’m driving back with Maureen and she wanted to know if you’re up to go out for dinner.”

His “yeah sure” was loud enough to send a smile across her face.

“Okay, we’ll swing by in about twenty minutes.”

Something deep within me told me that this might not be a good idea, but the friendliness of Maureen and her offer for dinner somehow outweighed whatever reservations I had. We pulled up to Gianni’s house to find him sitting on his front step waiting for us. As soon as he recognized us, he hustled over and took the back seat.

“Hi Gianni!”

“Hi Maureen!”

She looked at me, looking for a clue on my face, before smiling.

She took us over to a Chinese restaurant nearby, only to find it too crowded to sit down.

“Hey, we can take it back to my apartment,” she announced. “My roommate’s out of town this weekend, so we’ll have the place to ourselves.”

Gianni seemed agreeable and I went along with the plan. She drove us across the town and, minutes later, we parked ourselves in her kitchen, setting out the meal for us.

“Wine okay, you guys?” she held up a bottle she pulled from the fridge.

“Sure.”

She poured us each a full glass, emptying the bottle in the process.

“So, Gianni, where’d you two meet?” she asked nonchalantly.

He looked at me for a moment. “Through my sister. They were friends.”

“Oh,” she smiled, looking back at me. “Nice that you two can get along.”

“How about yourself?”

“Us?” she began, “we’ve known each other for awhile now, I guess. Some of his friends went out with my friends and … well, we almost dated each other, but that didn’t happen. Now I’m engaged,” she held out her hand to show her ring.

“Nice,” Gianni remarked.

“Yes, it is. Maybe you’ll be shopping for a ring someday.”

I looked at her just in time to see her smirk as she turned to get a napkin on the other counter.

We continued on for several minutes, before she excused herself to the bathroom.

Gianni turned to me, an urgent look in his eyes. “Does she know?”

“Know what?”

“About us?”

I let out a breath, “I don’t think so,” I lied, hoping he’d just play it cool with her. “Just relax.”

He nodded and smiled at me.

She returned a second later, and re-took her seat.

“So, I’ve been swamped with all these wedding plans,” she began, “it’s never ending all the hassles we need to go through.”

“Really? Like what?” Gianni asked.

“Travel, caterers, wedding registries, bridesmaids, bridesmaid dresses, groomsmen … I could go on all night.”

“Sounds busy. When are you getting married?”

“Two months. That’s if we haven’t killed each other by that time.”

“You should come!” she announced. “The both of you. I can put you at the same table.”

“No, you don’t have …”

“Oh, don’t be a baby,” she cut me off, “Gianni, when’s the last big wedding you’ve been to?”

He smiled and looked blankly back at her. “I don’t remember. Been a long time for sure.”

“Oh, it’ll be so much fun.”

“Okay, then, I’m in.”

I rolled my eyes. Maureen’s bubbly personality started to wiggle into Gianni now as well.

Just as the wine began to relax us, Maureen excused herself to return a DVD she forgot.

“If you need to take a shower,” she looked at me, “there’s a towel in the bathroom.”

“You think I need one?”

She scrunched up her nose and nodded. “Go ahead, I’ll be right back and we can watch the game.”

Heading down the hall, I started the shower, stripped off my dirty gear and stepped in. A few minutes and plenty of soap later, I opened the curtain to find my clothes had somehow disappeared.

“Maureen?” I called out.

“She had to return a DVD,” came the reply from Gianni.

I stepped back into the hallway with just the towel around my waist, and headed back to the front room. “You know what she did with my clothes?”

“I think she said she was going to wash them.”

I looked at him sitting on the couch, a relaxed smile about him.

“How long she say she’d be?”

Gianni laughed and pulled himself to the edge of his seat. I responded by standing next to him and let him pull the towel from me. The sensation of being in Maureen’s apartment with him was euphoric. I reached down and felt his hair as he pulled me into his mouth, his eagerness coupled with the urgency led to a very hurried coupling. Just as I spent the last into him, I noticed a motion from the side of the room.

“Maureen!”

She let out a burst of laughter, sending me into a frantic grab for my towel from the floor, pulling it around me.

He grinned, shaking her head. “I leave you alone for a minute and . . . “

“Sorry, I didn’t mean . . . “ I looked down at Gianni who seemed to be far less nervous as I was.

“I didn’t know you were still here.”

“I just threw your clothes in the wash, before returning the video.”

“Sorry . . . “

“Oh relax,” she laughed, her hands on her hips, still surveying the scene. “Don’t want to kill the mood for you two.”

I looked back at Gianni who gave he a shrug.

“Turns out I don’t need to return this til tomorrow anyway. Plus, the Michigan-Michigan State game is on.” She grabbed the remote and began flicking through the channels until finally the scene of a Wolverines’ player appeared. “Ah, here we go! What? Losing? By eight?”

“It’s only the third quarter,” I replied.

“Still. I can’t stand losing to these guys. They never stop talking about it whenever I go back home.”

“Have a seat with us,” she remarked, settling back in to the corner of the other couch. I took my glass and parked myself on the couch next to Gianni. On the tube, as the Michigan-Michigan State game played out, I nervously tried to reassure him that the situation was under control. Maureen, for her part, seemed to let it go, occasionally letting out a whoop for her Wolverines. Meanwhile, I struggled with keeping myself covered as the towel shifted each time someone moved on the couch.

At one point, Gianni excused himself to the bathroom.

“You know what I’d like?” Maureen grinned at me.

By this hour I was pleasantly buzzed and enjoying her playfulness. “What?”

“Mmm, I’d like to see you do it.”

Her words confused me, as we were sitting next to each other, but her eyes told a different story.

Then it hit me. “What? No.”

“C’mon. We all know what’s up. It’s not such a big deal anymore.”

“No. Out of the question. Too weird. Plus, he’s liable to get upset.”

“I don’t think so?”

“What makes you think that? No.”

“Come on. If he agrees to it, you have to as well.”

“Well he’s not, so there’s no use in asking.”

She leaned into me and smiled, slipping her hand into my towel and gently down the front. “Come on, I want to see it,” she purred, her hand beginning to weaken my resolve. She leaned up and gave me a soft, quick kiss to my lips. “We’ll have a little wager.” By that point, I was getting hard, she had to change her hand. I looked down to see the diamond ring.

“Okay, fine.”

She gave me a quick hard kiss and retreated to her seat.

I was able to tuck myself back in and we sat motionless watching the game as Gianni re-joined us and took his seat again.

On the screen before us Michigan marched down the field and were in the striking distance of a touchdown. “Come on Blue!” she screamed, her eyes glued to the screen.

Their quarterback rolled out and threw a dart to the back of the endzone, which flew right through the hands of his receiver.

“Shit!”

Gianni laughed, amazed at her intensity for her team. Meanwhile, I was trying to figure her setup. Just then, the next play had the fullback rumble through the middle, sending her Michigan six points late in the game.

“Whoo hoo!” she jumped off the couch and danced about the room. “Yeeaaahhh Go Blue!”

The camera flicked back and forth from the jubilant team to the worried coach on the other sideline. “Oh, man. We’re gonna win this. Just watch.”

“I don’t think so, still trailing and the Spartans are no pushovers.”

“Fine. Spartans win, I’ll give you a lapdance.”

“And if they lose?”

She grinned. Just then I realized I’d been set up. I waited to hear her words, and she may have said them, but the look of her nod towards Gianni spoke clearly.

“I don’t think …”

“Yes. That’s the bet. Besides, he’s already done his share.”

I glanced over at him and his look was almost disbelief.

“Fine.”

“Alright! We have a bet!” she screamed. “I can’t wait.”

Part of me wanted to see her give us the lapdance, just to prove to Gianni and her that we were far more interested in the female form than each other.

Part of me wanted to see her give us the lapdance, just to prove to Gianni and her that we were far more interested in the female form than each other.

Almost if on cue, the Michigan quarterback bobbled the snap, getting sacked immediately, leaving the Wolverine’s down by two.

“Aw shit!” she screamed at the screen, as the maize-and-blue jerseys stood in disbelief.

I laughed loudly. “Full lap-dance, remember. Hope you’re wearing your sexy undies.”

She blushed and covered her face.

I began to think it was a good bet: finally a chance to see her natural attributes. Judging by the mood, I was fairly sure she’d start in bra and panty and, with little encouragement, we’d be able to get those off her.

After each team had a drive ultimately snuffed out in the fourth quarter, we had reached the two-minute mark, with the Spartans still leading by one and with the ball at midfield. I smiled to myself confidently.

“You realize if they get this first down, the game is essentially over?”

“How’s that? There’s still almost two minutes left!”

I laughed. “Just watch. Better yet, I’m going to pick out the music for your dance. Think we’ll go with a little techno beat.”

Maureen smiled. I could tell she was ready to take her loss well, even adjusting her hair as the game wound down.

Back on the screen, the Spartan’s quarterback took the snap and dove over the pile to pick up the first down.

“Got it!” I exclaimed.

But just then the camera focused on the referee as he waved his arms. With a roll of his arms, he signaled an illegal motion penalty on the Spartans, forcing them back to re-try the down.

“What was that?” Maureen asked.

“You might still have a chance,” I mumbled.

Seemingly time stood still as we watched them take the snap, darting around end for the first down before a Wolverine smashed into the ball carrier as he stayed in bounds. In one hop, his teammate scooped up the fumble and raced towards the endzone. Pandemonium ensued, with fans rushing the field. Just like that, the game had turned, and Maureen was jumping around the room excitedly.

I looked over at Gianni who seemed to be confused by the rapid turn of events.

Even before they lined up to take the extra point, I’d resigned myself to losing. Maureen continued to gloat as her team recovered the onside kickoff and the stadium counted down the seconds on the clock.

“Ten … nine … eight … I want to see it all remember … seven … six ….”

I laughed good-naturedly at her teasing as she did.

Gianni had begun to unbuckle his pants when she stopped him.

“No, not just the pants. Everything.”

He laughed and pulled off his t-shirt and slid out of his pants, leaving him naked as I was in the living room. I took him into my mouth and began to pleasure him, noticing that Maureen had taken up a seat next to us on the couch.

“Oh … my … gah … he’s huge,” she gasped as I continued my attentions. By that point, I’d lost any reservation and became committed to performing a perfect job on him: changing tempo, positions, motions, even letting him force himself into the back of my throat until I gagged. Finally, he let out a low grunt and I felt him finish, gulping him down.

Gianni collapsed back into the couch next to Maureen and I gave them both a smile as I sat on the floor before them.

“That was good. Really, really good,” she announced, clearly aroused by the scene.

“Thanks.”

“I can’t believe that. You’re pretty good.”

“Okay … okay …” I stopped her. “Did that turn you on?”

She blushed. “Yeah. A bit. Maybe more that a bit,” hinting that she’d given herself some pleasure as she watched.

We sat together quietly for a few minutes before I noticed her start to doze off. I threw a blanket over her and retrieved my clothes from the wash before leading Gianni back outside to walk the mile back to my car.

“Sorry if that was weird.”

“No, it’s okay” Gianni replied.

“I guess she really seemed to like hanging out with us.”

“Yeah, I guess. You two used to date?”

“No, not at all. Seems kind of cool with …”

“Seriously?”

“No, I guess she figured it out and wanted to see … it.”

“Crazy.”

“I guess she’s getting married and thinking the fun is over soon.”

We found the car in the lot and I gave him a lift back to his house, getting him there before Midnight, the curfew he had with his father.

“Hey, thanks.”

“Sure, no prob. Thanks for coming out.”

“Hey, I got a meet on Tuesday.”

“Oh, okay. Then Thursday.”

“No, I meant, do you want to come out?”

“Oh, okay. Sure. Where is it?”

“Sunset Woods. 4pm.”

“Okay, cool. I’ll try my best to get there.”

“Bye.”

Meet

As strange as it may seem, I somehow felt less apprehensive the next morning when I awoke to join my mother for church. Perhaps it was the release of keeping the secret exclusively between just the two of us. Or possibly the comfort and familiarity of us. Either way, the guilt had subsided enough for me to relax enough to be at ease.

Before I headed off on my long Sunday run, my mother caught me and invited me to join them at the country club that afternoon for dinner. Normally, I didn’t care much for the social events at the club. At my age, I was caught in a generational gap: either way too young for even the youngest member or just old enough for the kids to eventually bother me to get them a drink at the bar.

On my run I was able to think as clearly and creatively as I had ever recalled. These runs had a therapeutic effect: issues and problems at work would find solutions and private matters somehow became suppressed, preventing them from overwhelming my conscious thinking. I arrived back at the house and showered. Seeing myself in the mirror, I realized I’d appeared leaner than I’d remembered. Borrowing my mother’s scale, I realized that I was back to my high school weight. Dressing in khakis and a sport jacket, I headed over to the club and joined the party.

As were most of the events at the club, the party was merely an excuse to socialize. I wandered about, somewhat disinterested from the scene and watched the game. In time, my mother brought over a friend of hers and her two nieces, Kathryn and Madison, who were now living in town. Neither particularly appealed to me, but being polite, I kept them pleasant company for the rest of the afternoon.

By Tuesday, I made an excuse to get out of work and over to the forest preserve in time for the race. Eventually bus after bus filled the lot, each bringing a team of boys and another of girls who began to gather, stretch and run near the starting line. I kept my eyes open for Gianni’s team and was soon rewarded with a wave from a passing group of runners as they loosened up.

In the meanwhile, more than a few of the girls caught my eye, their tight bun-huggers would be nearly impossible to justify anywhere else, but somehow here they were standard attire. With so many parents lingering nearby, I had to avert my gaze more than a few times, lest I be accused of being there with no justifiable reason.

After the girls’ race, I waited for the boys to assemble. Gianni looked to be dominated physically by his teammates and competitors as he lined up. But once the gun went off, he pushed himself to the lead pack. Twenty minutes later, he found himself finishing in the second pack, only a minute and a half off the leaders and, more importantly, in fifth for his own team. With his score, his team was able to finish in third place, giving the team a trophy in this event for the first time in long memory.

We headed back to his house afterwards for him to shower before heading out to eat. At least that was the plan. When we arrived, and found the house empty, our plans changed. Somehow, we both ended up in the shower together before heading back to his bedroom. After our first session, we sat in bed together leafing through his yearbook.

I stopped at the page for the girls cross country team and scanned the faces. “Who’s that?” He leaned in. “Amanda Gelber.” By his tone, I could tell he didn’t care for her. “Wait, you think she’s hot?”

“Well, in a way,” I laughed. “Forget it, she’s too young.”

He leaned back. “Hey, you hear from Maureen since?”

“No, why?”

“Just wondering. She’s pretty wild.”

“I’d say. Guess she’s busy planning her wedding.”

As we went through the book, I could feel his leg running against mine. With time winding down on the afternoon, I pulled myself under the covers and took him into my lips. He returned the favor by doing the same and we finished within moments of each other. I dressed and headed out to practice.

“Thursday?”

He nodded and closed the door behind him.

After an exhausting practice which had us running nearly non-stop for over an hour, I headed over to our pub with my teammates, before heading home.

Dance

Gianni surprised me one evening by mentioning that the Homecoming dance at his school was coming up, pausing to look at me. The look on my face apparently triggered a near-laughing fit for him. When he’d finally recovered, he began.

“No, not like go with me. Just mentioning it.”

“Oh, sorry, for a second there I thought …”

“Aw no, don’t say it.”

“Okay, I won’t. Phew.”

“Anyway, I think I’m going with one of the girls on the girls’ team. Whitney Morgan.”

“She nice?”

“Pretty nice. A few of our friends are going together and neither of us had a date yet, so we figured …”

“Nice looking?”

“Oh,” he slipped from his bed and walked across the room naked to get the yearbook. “Here she is,” pointing to a bright, smiling face in the row of portraits.

“Cross country, track, recycling club … very impressive. Any pics of her nude yet?”

“No!” he laughed, pulling the book away from me.

“We’ll have to request some then.”

“Hey, I was thinking: you want to go?”

“What? To a high school dance?”

“Yeah, it might be fun. I could find you someone to go with. Or just sneak you in, say you’re from another school.”

“No, I think I’ll have to pass. Might be hard to explain if we get caught.”

“Okay.”

After we parted, I began to think of my response. It wasn’t long before I regretted it. Granted, we had an unusual arrangement: it was far more friendship than anything. We enjoyed spending time together above all and our shared moments were merely a result of that, I reasoned. When I realized I’d turned down a polite invitation which took some courage for him to ask, I called him back.

“Gianni?”

“Yeah?”

“Hey, I’ve given some more thought to the dance, would it still be possible for me to go?”

“Yeah! Of course!”

“Good. Then put me in. We’ll figure some scenario where I don’t look too suspicious, okay?”

“Yeah sure. We’ll figure something out. That’s great.”

“Good, good. Looking forward to it. And looking forward to seeing you and Whitney there.”

“Sounds good. See you …”

“Thursday.”

When we met that Thursday, I gave him a clear, two-liter bottle.

“What’s this for?”

“Okay, listen to me. You’re going to take this into school tomorrow and keep it in your bag until you get to the men’s room nearest the gym. That’s where the dance is, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then you’re going to hide it above the ceiling tiles, being very careful not to drop it.”

“Got it.”

“Then when we get there on Saturday, we’ll be able to retrieve it when needed.”

“Ohhhh, got it.”

On Friday, I got a call from him.

“Hey, we’re going to meet at one of the girl’s house beforehand for pictures. You want to meet us at the school?”

“Sure, just tell me where.”

“Okay, next to the tennis courts at the end of the parking lot. I’ll get you as we’re heading in.”

“Great, see you at seven.”

I hung up the phone and looked out at my office, wondering if anyone else had an idea of what I was up to.

On Saturday, I headed out to our game on our home field. We had scheduled the Rangers RFC, a local, third-division club on that weekend, mostly as a favor to help them in their rankings. Since our clubs were friendly, we had an unspoken agreement to keep the game close.

In the first half, we controlled the possession for much of the 45 minutes, allowing them to pursue us as we moved down the pitch. After going up 19-0 on them, we eased off, setting rucks deep inside their end of the field, allowing only our forwards to advance the ball. Twice I allowed myself to be brought down in reach of an easy score. By the second half, we allowed them to catch up before finally winning 31-24. We met up at the pub later and had a friendly party before I was able to slip away for the evening.

Heading home, I dug into my closet and found a few items of mine that I hadn’t worn in years, figuring it would help me blend in better. By seven, I was in place at the far end of the lot.

A knock came to my side window.

“Hey, you ready?”

“Hey, Gianni. You’re looking sharp tonight.” He wore a suit and tie, with a corsage on the lapel.

“Ah, I forgot the flower.”

“Don’t worry,” he reached into his pocket and pulled one out. “There was an extra one at the house, so I brought it.”

“Thanks.” I took it from him and pinned it to my jacket. With it on, I was able to blend into his group and make our way into the dance. By that point the sun had set, giving the space a noisy-nightclub atmosphere, albeit with very little mingling.

I made my way over to the refreshments tables and surveyed the situation. They’d had trays and trays of crackers, snacks and cookies laid out, figuring that most had eaten dinner beforehand. Several large punch bowls were scattered at intervals along the way, each with tall stacks of plastic cups next to them.

I took a cup and served a small sample, tasting the different varieties before settling on the bowl with a light green shade, apparently an over sweetened, pineapple version.

Gianni introduced me to his date, Whitney, who appeared prettier than her photos: long, straight blonde hair, a narrow, girlish figure and wearing a tight, red dress. Aside from the braces and heels she had difficulty walking in, she could have passed for a college student.

“Gianni tells me you’re his friend from grade school?”

“Yeah, before we moved.”

“Cool, where do you go to school now?”

I glanced over at him and he shrugged.

“Glenlake,” I replied, hoping she wouldn’t know anyone there and ask a followup question.

“Cool!”

I waited for her to look away before taking a slow look down her figure.

Eventually, some of the kids found their way onto the dance floor, coaxed out there by a steady mix of dance beats from the DJ. Even I got out there for a short bit before making my way around the crowded gym. As I did, I felt as if I’d traveled back in time as almost every variety of high-school-aged stereotype was there: the jock, the snotty girl, the awkward ones, the nerdy. Even the faculty who supervised looked as if they belonged to a clique: the plump women keeping an eye on their assigned area, the grey-haired bored types, the uncertain younger ones.

I wandered out of the gym and eyed the bathroom. With the dance floor heating up, I figured this to be the best moment to check on my stash. I took the furthest stall and stood on the toilet, carefully lifting the ceiling tile. With a little search, my hand fell on a full, plastic bottle. I pulled it down and poured a full amount into my cup before setting the bottle back into place.

Walking back out, I moved past the faculty chaperones smoothly and back into the gym. Once back at the table, I lingered 