131Chapter 3
I barely had a chance to even yawn before he's yelling down the hatch for me to hurry up, so I threw on my clothes – not the shirt – and went topside. It was night, but the wind was already blowing pretty hard. Oddly, the waves weren't that big.
"Start tying down the sail!" he yells at me from the winch. It's flapping all over the place, so I start trying to grab the folds as they fall, but then he yells at me again to tie down the boom first, so I don't get knocked overboard if the wind shifts. Which, I'll admit, seems like a good idea. I guess I wasn't quite awake yet.
Once that's done, we loosen-up the foresail so that it catches a little wind, but most of it spills off. "Just to help keep us pointed the right direction," he says. "Keep us out of the trough."
"Trough?"
"The valleys between the waves. We want to stay pointed into them – otherwise... well, it can be bad, put it that way."
"But the waves aren't very big..."
"They may get bigger. You never know. It's the open ocean out here, so you don't dare just hope for the best. Right – let's get the motor started."
He had a motor? All this time and he never told me – or any of us – about the motor? I think he saw the look on my face.
"It's just a tiny one, Ryan – for maneuvering around harbors, mostly. But it'll help keep us pointed upwind."
I still thought he was being kind of ridiculously over-cautionary, I mean, yeah, the waves were hitting the hull pretty hard, but they were only a couple of feet high. The wind was so strong that it was blowing water off their crests, though, so we were getting soaked with spray.
And then the motor didn't start.
Okay... that can't be good. It wasn't so much the wind and waves that started to scare me, as it was how worried he looked.
"Fuck! Goddamn Chinese wires... I knew this would happen! Ryan – go get that hand-held floodlight from the galley. The one I showed you yesterday. It's under the seats. Great – I'm going to have to work on the damn thing at night, in high wind, with sea-spray all over the damn place. GodDAMN cheap-ass wires!"
I went and got the floodlight. When I came back, he'd opened up a pair of hatches at the stern of the boat – I'd always wondered what was under there – and was squeezing himself down next to the motor, scowling the whole time. "Hold that light on this," he tells me, pointing to a black box on top of the engine with a lot of wires coming off of it, "And get down here, at the back. No, the back of the engine, Ryan – forward, then. See those buttons? Green for go, red for stop. Remember that. When I tell you, hit the green one."
I squeezed in too, but at least I had a little more room than he did. I could huddle my whole body down, and keep out of the wind and spray. Poor Sno couldn't, and salt-water dripped off his face as he steadied himself with one hand and pulled out one of the wires with the other.
"Okay, hit it!" he yells over the wind. So I do.
I don't know what he was looking for, but apparently he's satisfied, and yells at me to kill it. I wish he'd said "stop" instead – all this stuff is new to me, but it makes sense: red, stop, 'kill'. Just that I had to think about it, is all. I'm scared I'll do something wrong.
He pulls out another wire and we do it again. Two more times. I'm guessing that whatever he thought the problem was, wasn't it. He takes a second to wipe the water off his face – not that it did any good – and puts his hand back down on top of the black box thing. "Okay... well... give it another go then. Maybe it'll work this time."
I punch the green button.
"AAAAAAHHHHH!" he screams, scaring the fucking hell out of me, and I frantically press on the red button over and over, while he lets off a stream of what I assume are curse-words in his native language. He's really pissed, and I can only hope it's not at me. Didn't I do what I was supposed to? Is it my fault? Is... is he hurt? Then he starts hitting the engine, punching it with his fists, and kicking at it with his feet as best he can at the same time. I'd never seen anyone so mad, and he just keeps doing it for what seemed to me like forever, but was probably only half a minute or so, cursing the whole time. The curses sound pretty bad, from what I can tell. He's certainly earnest about them anyway.
Finally he gives up beating on the engine, an just kind of stares at it, panting for awhile. Then he looks over at me.
I guess it showed on my face, because he says, "It's not you, Ryan. It's this FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT MOTOR that... GOD!" He kicks at it a few more times. Now that I know I'm off the hook, it's actually kind of funny...
He give me this sort of pissed-off look again. "Keeping you entertained am I, Ryan?" I think I was smiling. I tried to stop.
"No... Well..." I reconsider what I was about to say – I'm not really sure how mad he is. "Are... are you okay, Sno? Are you hurt?"
"I'll get over it. I don't know why, but something about being shocked just really PISSES me off, y'know? Maybe you don't. But yeah, PISSES me right the FUCK off... Christ Almighty."
I feel giggles coming on and cover my mouth so he won't see. Apparently he can tell anyway, because he smirks at me and says, "Fine. Break time - I need to cool the hell off. Let's get outta here and go below for awhile." We both squirm out of the hole. Once he's out, he stretches himself, arching his back, and I watch him still holding the edge of the flood-light on him. Even so, I can barely make him out, he's sort of a black silhouette in the beam. Holy cow man, he sure is in good shape for someone his age. I hope I look that good when I'm old.
Yeah, I caught myself thinking that, and kind of winced about it. But fuck man, I really do. So I want to be good-looking when I'm old! So what! Doesn't everyone?
Having seen Sno lose his cool like that made him seem a lot more human to me, somehow. I don't quite know how I was thinking of him before... but it was like, now I'd seen a part of him that he wouldn't show anyone intentionally. He just seemed different. And not the least bit scary, anymore. I followed him below to the galley.
"You drink coffee?" he asked me once we'd toweled off. Both my pants and his were soaked, but I guess we were just going to go right back up again, so what the hell. So that's why everything in the galley was vinyl and wood and metal. It had to be water-proof. Very clever.
"Our parent's don't let us," I answered automatically, thereby making myself feel like a kid again.
"Well, your parents aren't here. Obviously. Have a seat – I'll set you up. So I take it that you don't know how you like it, then..."
"Uh... no..."
"Time you found out," he says while he microwaves a measuring-cup of water. I figure it's going to be instant coffee, then. We're not big coffee-drinkers in The Netherlands, but even we know that 'instant' anything sucks.
Turns out, it's not instant after all – he pours the hot water into this little pump-looking thing, and presses down on the handle on top, then pours out the resulting thick, black liquid into a cup. He brings it to me.
"Try it."
I do. It's awful. Just incredibly bitter, kind of like baker's chocolate.
"Okay, so you don't like it black. Neither do I. Pour some cream in." He hands me the half-n-half.
"How much?" I ask.
"Up to you. Not for me to tell what's the right amount. Work you way up until it seems good – or at least better. Then you can try putting in some sugar, if you want." He goes back to pump a cup for himself, while I experiment.
The cream really makes a difference. Since I like coffee-candy, I thought some sugar would be just the thing – but I was wrong, and ruined it. Gah. I would have thought it would make it taste like the candy, but it sure didn't. How weird.
He must have seen me making a face, because he says, "Screw it up?"
"Yeah..."
"Give it here, I'll make you another. Cream no sugar, eh? Just like me. How 'bout that..." he says, but I don't detect any hidden meaning to it. Then he does something I never thought he'd ever do: he breaks out one of his boxes of chocolate donuts. "Try one of these with it," he says.
"Uhm... okay..." I'm still kind of shocked that he's sharing them. Other than Ellen, he's been making a point of not eating them around us. And when he does eat one, he seems to pretend that we're not even there. So I'm a little surprised, yeah. I take one out of the box, though, and bite off about half of it. I figured they'd be good, but – holy cow, man – they're fucking great!
"Ryan! Jesus, Joseph, and Mary – don't just gobble it down like that... Small bites. Then coffee. The idea here is that you're trying to play the flavors off each other, not just consume them because they're in front of your face. Now sip the coffee and get the all the flavor of the chocolate out of your mouth. It takes a little bit of effort to enjoy things to their fullest – but it's worth it. Try again."
And so I sit there in the galley drinking coffee and taking dainty bites of expensive (I assume) chocolate donuts with my rapist. Only I don't think of him that way, anymore. He's just a guy I have a deal with, and I really do feel that way. Somehow I know he won't hurt me – although it might make me a little uncomfortable when he finally... you know. Actually, just thinking about it makes me a 'a little uncomfortable', but he's not going to 'rape' me, anyway. As we eat and drink, and he tells me all about the motor, a curse-word still slips in here and there. I laugh at him for it. He doesn't seem to mind.
I don't feel so much like a 'kid', anymore, either.
Seven hours later and the motor finally runs. It was the "timing belt", whatever that is. By this time I''m exhausted and just desperately want to go to bed – the waves got bigger, just like Sno said they would, and the rocking of the boat is making me a queasy – but Sno makes me take a shower first anyway. He says that if the salt water dries on your skin, it'll itch like crazy. So I shower and rummage around in his dresser for another t-shirt while Sno showers. I find one, put it on, and then look at my pillow and blankets on the floor.
Y'know what? I'm sick of sleeping on the floor. It's damn uncomfortable, and I've never been so dead-fucking tired in my life. I'm getting in the bed. Sno's as exhausted as I am, maybe more so. To hell with it.
When I wake up it's still dark, but the clock says is after six am., so the sun will be coming up soon. Sno's already up and looking over some charts at his desk. He doesn't know I'm awake, so I just watch him for awhile. I was supposed to think about something, when I got the time... but I can't really remember what it -
Oh, yeah, the blow-job. I was supposed to think about the blow-job. Soooo... Sno sucked my dick. He sucked me off. He blew me. He put my dick in his mouth. I try saying it to myself all kinds of different ways, because I think I should feel more... I don't know... 'shocked' about it than I do. For some reason, the only thing I feel is kind of like "Okay, he sucked my dick. I came in his mouth. So what?"
Because, you know, isn't that kind of a weird thing to do? I mean, to have someone's penis in your mouth? Why would anyone want to do a thing like that? God, it felt good, though. I mean... well, holy-fucking-cow, man... He did it really, really good. I guess he did, anyway. Not like I have anything to compare it with. I came – and in record time – but that couldn't have done much for him, I don't think. When he'd started doing it, I was afraid, for just a second, that he'd want me to do the same thing to him. But that second was over pretty fast – I had other things on my mind - and so far anyway, he hasn't made me actually 'do' anything to him at all.
So why would he want to do that? Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm "cute". Does that apply to my dick too? Can a dick be "cute"? I never really thought about it before.
Or have I...
I sighed out loud – which I didn't mean to do – but I guess Sno was too busy to notice. Good, because I really needed time to think.
I'm not gay. I like girls. I like their tits (although maybe not as much as some guys), I like their butts and their legs and their faces and their hands... I like pretty much everything about girls. So I can't be gay!
Just that... There's... there's this one guy at school... Just ONE! Out of all the boys at my school, there's ONE that I've... noticed... like that, swear to god! Evan Simone. Oh god... I haven't thought of him since the semester let out. Maybe I've been trying not to or something. I don't know what the fuck it is about him – I can't figure it out – but man... It's kind of scary. I have one class with him, and of course he had to take a chair right next to mine. Once when we were handing papers across the rows, my hand accidentally touched his and I thought I was going to throw-up. I could hardly breathe. My heart was pounding so loud I figured everyone must be able to hear. God... And I'm wondering what the hell is happening to me, you know? Sure, I get nervous around pretty girls, anxious, tongue-tied, all the usual stuff, but nothing like that! What the FUCK is going on?
I don't even know the guy! I've barely even said 'hi' to him! And, it's not like he's a big jock, or Mr. Popularity, or super-cool or anything... But something about him just... affects me...
I've seen him naked. One time when I had to go get something out of my gym-locker, and his class was just about to get out, and he was coming out of the showers. I saw him, and went to my locker, opened it up, and suddenly I had no idea what I'd come in for. No idea at all. All I could think about was Evan Simone naked.
Yeah, I saw his dick.
Okay, fine. I would suck on Evan Simone's penis, all right? I totally would. God – I've got a hard-on just thinking about it... Great. Now how am I supposed to get out of bed? I sighed aloud again, and Sno ignored it again, thank god.
So anyway, okay, I can see wanting to suck someone's dick. Sno is no Evan Simone, of course, so just because I'd suck Evan (in a fucking heartbeat) doesn't mean I'll suck-off just anyone. Evan is just... I don't know. Actually, I think I'd even butt-fuck him, if he'd let me. I hadn't really considered... Come to think of it again, maybe I'd even let him-
None of this is making it any easier for me to get out of bed. My dick is rock-hard - it'll never go down! And I gotta pee, too. The male design-flaw – can't pee if you've got a hard-on. I really wonder if God laughs about stuff like that, sometimes. I gotta stop thinking about this.
I get it, all right? I'm still not gay, but I'm not exactly one-hundred percent straight, either. Fine. I can live with that.
I try to think about headless chickens and sardine cannerys.
The wind is still blowing and the boat's still rocking when I finally get up to pee and get something to eat. Sno said there wasn't going to be much to do today... if anything at all... so we were just going to have to entertain ourselves as best we could. He was still looking over his charts and stuff when I left him. I can't imagine what could take so long looking at maps of the ocean. There's nothing here.
Lisa's pretty sea-sick again, but she gets out of bed once in a while to use the bathroom or eat crackers and drink 7-Up. Ellen is running around bothering everyone. For some reason, the motion of the boat doesn't do anyting to her at all. And me, I try to stay sitting down as much as possible. Every time I stand on my feet I immediately get a little sick. You really can't walk around without having to either hold onto something or brace yourself, we're rocking so much. Ellen bounces around like a goddamn rubber ball, and likes it.
Sometime around mid-morning – there's really not much point in keeping track of time on a boat – Sno comes out of his cabin dragging Ellen by the hand. I hadn't realized she was even in there. I'd been sitting at the galley table flipping through old magazines, bored off my ass and trying not be sick.
"Ryan – will you please try to keep Ellen here entertained? She never seems to run out of questions, and I have things to do."
"Yeah, okay," I answer, "Sorry – I didn't realize she was back there with you."
"I don't mind her coming to see me, or even ask questions... but she never stops, you know."
I chuckle a little. Ellen can be like that, especially around new people. "I'll keep her out of your hair, Sno."
"Why don't you watch a movie or something..."
"Huh? How?"
Sno walks over to a bunch of cabinets forward of the table, next to the stairs from the deck. I'd looked in there before, just snooping around... not much to see. But I guess I didn't open the little doors above the larger cabinet doors – there's a little tv in there, and a VCR next to it. And I mean little tv, maybe all of 20 centimeters across. Our television at home is more like two meters. A similar cabinet on the other side of the stairs has tapes in it.
I suppose I should look around this place more, if I'm gonna be stuck here for so long... Not today, though. Not if I have to stand.
"Oh," I say, feeling kind of stupid. Sno breaks out into this big smile, his teeth dazzlingly white against the blackness of his face. I guess he thought I was kind of stupid too... I rolled my eyes at him.
I see from the selection of tapes that he's had kids here before – probably his own. Or maybe grand-kids, I don't know. I guess movies are a standard way to keep bored little kids quiet, because he's got a lot of Disney in there. The Lion King, for instance, that'll keep Ellen quite. Oh, wait, The Labyrinth, her favorite movie of all time. I swear, she can watch it continuously for days. She squeals when I tell her it's there, so Labyrinth it is.
Over next to the tapes, there's some old, beat-up paper-back books, too. A lot of them are in French – not my best language, but then I see this heavily dog-eared and worn one about "Beginner's Guide to Sailing", and it's in English, so I take it. I've recently become aware that there's a lot I didn't know about sailing, and maybe I should. Like Sno said – we were on our own out here. If something were to happen to him, it'd be up to me and Lisa. And I only know how to tie a square-knot. So I pop in the movie for Ellen and settle down with the book next to her at the galley table.
"Jareth is SO cute!" Ellen squeals a little while after it starts, "Don't you think Jareth is cute, Ryan?"
I look up at the tiny screen. "Jareth" is played by David Bowie. I know all the girls think David Bowie is 'cute', but he never really did much for me. "If you say so, Ellen." I go back to my book. Apparently the kind of boat we're on is called a 'sloop' – one main-sail on a boom, an optional foresail or "headsail" from the same mast. Or, you can also tie a "spinnaker" to it – but that's only if you're going with the wind. Learned something new already.
"Well, I think Jareth is cute," Ellen says petulantly, "Not cute like Sno is, but different."
"Mmm-hmm," I respond, not really listening to her.
"Are you and Sno gonna get married?"
That got my attention. I looked down at her with my mouth hanging open. What? I suppose it's because I'm sleeping in his room... I mean, she can't know what's going on, can she? No... no, that's ridiculous. It's just because I sleep in his cabin. And, I suppose, because he's an adult man. I imagine she thinks I'm the "woman", which is kind of a pisser... on the other hand, she's seven. She probably doesn't think very much about the difference between boys and girls. It's kind of funny, actually.
"No, sis. No, I'm not going to marry Sno..." I'm almost chuckling as I say it.
"Well, you like him don'tcha?"
"Ellen... watch your movie..."
" 'Kay."
Heh. Well, so much for being able to concentrate on my book. Might as well watch the movie. I haven't actually seen it for... well, maybe a two years now. It is pretty good. Funny how you don't even notice how small the screen is, after awhile.
A lot of the day goes by this way, and Ellen watched the movie twice in a row.
God there's a lot to know about sailing... I can't read a single paragraph without having to look up at least one of the words. I guess that's what happens when people have been doing something for a few thousand years. Every little thing has to have it's own damn name. Anyway, by about mid-afternoon, I'm getting pretty tired of sitting there trying not to be sick. I want to lay down. Lisa's asleep again, and Ellen's taking a nap too, or I'd seriously think about borrowing one of their bunks, but that's out, so I guess I have no choice but to see if Sno minds if I lay on the bed while he's working in the cabin.
He doesn't, so I strip down and put on the t-shirt I'm using as pajamas again. He doesn't even glance at me. I figured he would... but he doesn't. Well, good, because I really don't feel like... doing anything. Not that I ever did, but... well, anyway, I just want to take a nap.
As soon as I'm laying in the bed, though, I feel a lot better. Amazing how that works.
"Sno? What are you doing, anyway... you've been working on that all day."
"Finding a course around that'll take us away from Sierra Leone and Guinea Bissau. And avoid as much bad weather as we can at the same time. We're going to have to go quite a distance off-shore, so we don't want to hit any storms while we're that far out."
"What's wrong with Sierra Leone and... uh..."
"Guinea Bissau," he finishes for me, then looks at me for the first time since I came into the cabin, and says, "Pirates."
"Pirates? They still have pirates?"
"They still have pirates. Only not quite as swash-buckling and noble as what you see in the movies. They use motor-boats and machine-guns now. And they're not after gold and treasure anymore – it's the yachts themselves they want. They sell them on the black-market. They simply kill everyone aboard when they take one. Very efficient."
"Oh..." I didn't like the sound of that. At all.
"We won't see them Ryan – don't worry about it. But we need to put far out to sea – and it looks like there are some low-pressure systems trying to establish themselves. What I'd give for a satellite-phone with a data-connection. Ah well, we can make do with WeFax and short-wave. No choice."
"Low-pressure systems?"
"Storms. Nothing cyclonic, but we don't want to run into them if we don't have to."
Damn, man. Things were going from bad to worse. I can't believe that me and Lisa thought we could do this by ourselves. I don't know anything about weather... or sailing, it turns out. Sno seems to know everything about everything. I can't imagine how it all fits into his head. It's not so much that he makes me feel stupid, just that I kind of wonder if I'll ever be able to learn that much stuff when I grow up.
"You sure know a lot..."
"Sailing is a passion of mine – don't be so impressed. I've only learned as much as I had to; and I'm certainly no meteorologist."
"But even just sailing... I've been reading that book you have and there's an awful lot to know."
"Beginner's Guide to Sailing?"
"Yeah."
"I use it more as a reference, Ryan. I hope you're not trying to read it cover-to-cover... it would be incredibly boring, seems to me."
"It kinda is..."
He laughs, "I bet. The Chance – that's my boat's name, if you didn't know - is a Bermuda-rigged sloop, so I ignore anything that doesn't have to do with Bermuda-rigged sloops. And most of the chapters about navigation were rendered obsolete when GPS came on-line – I don't even own a sextant. A little two-hundred dollar device tells me where I am to within fifty meters anywhere in the world. I've found that about five types of knots is sufficient, and rarely even use those, favoring carabiners when possible. You learn to pick and choose what you need to know. I do find myself re-reading the parts about wind and sails quite often, though. Heeling and luffing, those sorts of things. Some things change, others don't. Are you passionate about sailing, Ryan?"
"It's pretty cool, I guess. Wouldn't say I'm 'passionate' about it..."
"Well, what are you passionate about?"
"Uhm... I don't know... I play a lot of Halo II..." God, now I sound like a stupid kid again.
"I take it that's a game of some sort."
"Yeah."
"Let me ask you this: what would you rather be doing, when you're playing... uh..."
"Halo II."
"... when you're playing Halo II?"
"Oh... I don't know..." I sigh. He's right though – usually I only play it because I've got nothing better to do. But if I could do whatever I wanted? Well... hmm. "I've always wanted to have a motorcycle. A cousin gave me a ride on his, once. It's really cool – like you're out in the scenery, instead of just watching it through a wind-shield. So I guess you could say I'd rather be riding a motorcycle."
"And what sort of motorcycle would you ride?"
Now he's talking about something I've thought about - "A Honda 650XL. Or some other Paris-Dakar replica – they're dual-purpose bikes, big enough for the highways, but you can still go off-road. Big street-bikes can't go off-road. Well... they can, but it's a bad idea. Paris-Dakar bikes have big gas-tanks, so you can go a long ways, but they're still small enough that I could lay it down and drag it under a fence, if I wanted too. Most of 'em are chain-drive, though, and I think I'd rather have a shaftie. Less maintenance, less likely to break. BMW makes one like that."
"You seem to know an awful lot about it..."
"Yeah... Yeah, I guess I do..." Apparently I'm not as dumb as I thought I was.
"Scootch over – I think I could use a break, too."
Uh-oh. Well, I guess it had to happen sometime. I am laying in his bed, after all, and naked except for the big t-shirt. I should have expected as much. But he's not getting undressed or anything – he just kicks his shoes off and lies on top of the covers. I'm under them. He's going to have a hard time touching me through the blankets... I slide over towards my side as much as I can, until I'm about to fall off.
"Fear not, Ryan, nothing is going to happen. I'm not immune to sea-sickness either, unlike your sister Ellen seems to be. I just want to lay down – I don't feel like doing anything."
"Good. Me neither."
He looks over at me as he's laying there. I guess I could have phrased that better... it almost sounds like I'm saying that I would feel like 'doing something' some other time, just not right now. But I can't think of any way to undo what I just said, so I pretend like I didn't just say anything stupid. He's probably gonna embarrass me now...
"So where would you go, then?" he asks, turning his face back toward the ceiling and putting his hands behind his head.
"Huh?"
"On your motorcycle. Where would you go?"
"Oh. Uh, well, all over the place... All over Europe, if I could! Norway, Bavaria, the Alps – it would be so cool to motorcycle through the Alps - and the coast of Brittany, because..." I go on and on and on. I really have thought about this a lot... I'm definitely gonna get a motorcycle when I get older. I swear to god I am.
I guess I talked a little too long, because next time I look over at him, he's asleep. That's kind of funny – my defense against him was to bore him to death. Well, Sno, if you didn't want me to talk, you shouldn't have asked! I smile and roll over and think about places I could go on my motorcycle.
When night comes, he's still not interested in sex. I guess the rough seas are taking their toll on all of us. Next day isn't quite as rough, and I go out to spend some time on deck, but it's pretty miserable. I'm soaked in no time, the salt is stinging my eyes, and the wind just roars constantly in my ears. But at least I got outside for awhile. You can't really cook anything when it's that rough either, so we're living off things from cans and crackers and cheese. Ellen watches The Labyrinth two more times and then switches to Lion King. Lisa stays up a while and watches it once with her.
That afternoon, Sno feels me up and sucks my dick again. He's starting to kiss around on me too. He... uh... he kissed my butt, for instance. Just the cheeks. Nothing, y'know, nasty. And he's spending more and more time on my nipples, too. I'm beginning to realize that he's not just doing it to get me hard... I think he likes it. Maybe that's obvious, but I hadn't thought of it that way before.
Y'know the phrase "treated like a piece of meat"? Well, I'm beginning to understand what that means. Oh, he's decent enough and all... hell, I think he likes me, but when we're... doing it... I really feel like he's just taking what he wants, like I'm sort of along for the ride. I mean, the way he touches me and feels me and kisses my body, even the way he sucks me... he's not doing it for me, he's doing it for him. Not that I wanted him to 'do it for me'... Anyway, it's starting to make me feel kind of used. Like a man would use a woman. I would never 'use' a woman like that, but... well, that's what it feels like anyway. Especially when he kisses my butt. I mean, come on, boys aren't supposed to get their butts kissed... That's the kind of thing you do to a girl!
I'm not a girl, goddammit! I don't want to be a girl! I don't want to be 'the woman'!
I can't believe I feel this way, but it's not about being embarrassed and ashamed and humiliated anymore – I guess I'm past all that – now he's just pissing me off.
And the next night, he's doing it again! Then finally he does something that... that... that I finally can't just let him do. I mean... I just...
He kissed me. On the mouth. No tongue or anything, but yeah, he kissed me pretty good. And... I didn't stop him. While he was doing it, I mean. I... I guess I was just too surprised or something, that he'd do that. And maybe a little surprised about how it felt too... those big lips and all... but mostly just that he'd do that. I didn't quite know what to do, or how to feel, but do I know one thing: I'm NOT a girl!
So afterwards – I don't really know how long the kiss went on - and he's squeezing my butt-cheeks and his mouth is heading down my neck back towards my nipples yet again, I finally have to say something, deal or no deal.
"Why don't you just put me in a dress, for god's sake!"
It's the first time I've complained. He looks up at me with this quizzical expression and says, "Pardon?"
"I said, 'Why don't you just put me in a dress,' since you want a girl so much."
He scoots back on the bed, away from me as I'm standing there in my usual place between his legs. He's probably mad. Yeah, well, I don't care. So am I.
"Ryan... Uh... What makes you think... That is... Uhm... I'm rather at a loss here... You think I want a girl? That I want you to be a girl?"
"Seems like it to me." I say as snidely as I can. And it occurs to me – he's probably going to ask me why I feel like a girl. Oh shit.
"Getting your dick sucked makes you feel like a girl?"
"Well... no... but, well... everything else you do does... kinda..." God, I sound so lame. Why did I even have to start this argument? It's like the last thing I want to talk about.
"I see..." he says thoughtfully. I wish I knew what he was thinking. I should have kept my big mouth shut.
"Look, Ryan – I'm a man who finds other men attractive. Some men, that is, certainly not all men. I also find women attractive. Again – some of them. But the attraction is different. I can assure you of that. I am not thinking of you as a girl. Certainly not. Very much... not. I don't know how to put it strongly enough..."
"You go around kissing men on the butt?" Ha – I got him there!
"Yes. If they have nice butts... I do. Wouldn't you, if you found yourself attracted to another boy – who had an attractive bottom?"
I'm not gonna answer that. No way am I gonna answer that. Because the first thing that sprang into my mind, of course, was Evan Simone, and yeah, I'd kiss his-
Suddenly I wonder: does... does he feel the same way about me that I feel about Evan? Oh my god... I'd never thought of that! Oh my god! No wonder he feels me up the way he does... No wonder he likes to suck my dick without making me to do the same to him! Oh fuck, man... Oh fuck...
"Ryan?"
"I... I'm not going to fall in love with you..." What? What did I just say? What the fuck am I saying? What was I just thinking about? Something about Evan?
He's laughing at me now, "No, I should hope not. I'm not going to fall in love with you either. But I am attracted to you. Very much so. And – you may be surprised to hear – I do like you, Ryan. But love? No. Love is not on the table."
He's waiting for me to say something... Well, he's going to be waiting a long time. After what I said last time I opened my mouth, I'm scared to say anything at all, because I'm not sure what's going to come out. So I just stand there, hoping I don't look as confused as I feel. But for some reason, I'm not actually embarrassed. I kind of feel like I should be – but I'm not. Really, I just feel terribly, terribly awkward.
"You know..." he says, rubbing his chin, "I think I know a way to put your mind to rest about this 'girl' business you're so upset about. Yes. And in addition, I'm getting tired of jerking myself off after these experiences of ours..."
He's... he's been jerking off to me afterwards? Well, okay – that explains a lot, I guess. But... really? Jerking off for me? I would have liked to have had more time to think about that – it seemed important – but what he said next kind of blew everything else away.
"I think it's time we had sex, Ryan. You lie on the bed. I'll get the lube."
I close my eyes and try to stay calm. Well, I knew it was going to happen sooner or later. None of that other stuff that I was thinking about really matters now. This is it. Sno's going to fuck me. I'm going to get fucked. Aww, man... I'm not ready for this...
On the other hand, I guess I can at least stop worrying about it, now. Fine. Let's just get it over with. I crawl up on the bed, lying on my stomach. I hope he wasn't lying about not hurting me, because I don't see how it can't. Ah well. Guess I'm about to find out.
"Here we are," he says, finding what he was looking for, "Vaseline. It doesn't dry out, you see, like the water-based lubes tend– Uh, Ryan? I'm sorry, I guess I wasn't clear. Not like that – I'm not going to penetrate you. Turn over."
Huh? If he's not going to... do that, then what's he need lube for? I have no idea what's going on here... I roll over on my back anyway – but I honestly have no idea what's about to happen. I wish he'd tell me... or... or something...
But he doesn't. He pulls off his shorts, then gets on the bed and straddles my thighs. Then he holds our dicks together, and scoots up more so that the heads of our dicks are lined up even. I watch him doing all this and about all I can think is What the hell? Followed shortly by Oh my god – he's HUGE! I've never actually seen his penis before.
He's circumsized, thank god. I am too, and I guess that's why un-circumsized dicks look weird to me. His doesn't look weird. Except for being, y'know, black. I don't know why that surprised me – and I imagine I would have been even more surprised if it hadn't been black... but at least it doesn't look weird. It''s a pretty good looking dick.
Holy cow – did I just think that?
Then he takes some Vaseline and wraps his fingers around both our dicks together, and starts stroking.
I'd gone a little soft, what with all the awkwardness from before, but that didn't last long. I can feel his dick... with my dick! And I can feel his hand, and he's squeezing and stroking... our dicks together... Our DICKS TOGETHER...
I don't know why that makes a difference – but it does. Our DICKS together.
"Does this make you feel like a girl, Ryan?" I look up at him – he's smiling at me. Oh god this feels good.
"N-no," I choke out. It sure doesn't. I guess that's the point he was trying to make by doing this, rubbing our male-parts together. No, I don't feel the least bit like a girl now. Far from it. Even if I am doing this with a man, I still feel about as male as I guess I possibly can.
"Here – you take over for a while..." He takes my hand and smears a wad of Vaseline into it, then puts it down on my dick. Our dicks. And I stroke... us... for awhile. Stroke us. Not just me. Wow is it different.
It's weird at first. I've never touched anyone else's penis before. It's different from touching my own, because I can't feel my hand on his dick, like I can on mine. Damn he's hard... no wonder they call it a "boner". It's hard to believe there's not a bone in there. But I do feel my hand on my own dick, which isn't really a big deal, I've felt that lots of times. But the feel of his dick on mine – THAT isnew. I squeeze and stroke and our dicks slide around against each other... And I'm looking at our dicks, and at his body above me, all that black muscle... his stomach is so taught and defined... He looks so powerful. Not 'old' at all.
His dick isn't really "huge"... not like a porn-star or anything. I guess I just thought that because it's so much bigger than mine. Well, he's a full-grown man, and I'm fifteen, so of course he's bigger than me. Actually... he'd be bigger than me anyway. I'll never be as big as him. And that doesn't bother me.
The more I find myself thinking about his dick, the better it feels against mine...
He puts one of his hands down over my hand, so we're both stroking our combined dicks at the same time. He's squeezing my hand, which in turn squeezes our dicks. When I open my eyes – I don't know when I closed them – I see that he's fondling his nipples.
So, it's not just me? He likes to play with his nipples too? Well, hell, if he's not embarrassed about it, then why should I be? I do the same.
And so I lay my head back and close my eyes and just let it happen.
I come, and pretty hard too, but he doesn't, and just keeps stroking us together. Pretty soon I'm hard again. And now that the... urgency... of having an orgasm is over, I'm really getting a lot more into the whole experience. It's like my mind is clear enough now that I can really feel what's going on in sort of a different way. Like I can concentrate on it or something. And not just what's going on with my dick, either, but just everything.
At one point, I find myself sort of zoned-out, breathing through my mouth and staring at his nipple while he fondles it. I'm still playing with mine, too. I think about how good it would feel if he were doing mine. And I were doing his...
At some other point, it occurs to me that this really is 'sex', and that I'm having it with a man.
I'm still thinking that – over and over over and in all kinds of different ways – as I'm getting ready to come for a second time. I'm getting off on it. Having sex... with another man's penis... rubbing against mine. Sno's penis... rubbing against mine. Slip-sliding along with mine. Squeezed together with mine.
My stroking starts getting frantic, but Sno's saying, "Wait... Wait, Ryan... Just a... Just a little longer..." So I try to wait, I really do, but then suddenly he's squeezing my hand a lot tighter - and he has really strong hands - and I finally just fucking explode.
And although I'm not looking, I can still feel it from his dick on mine: so does he.