How it Was Chapter 5
This is a follow up to "How it Was" Ch.1-4 so it might make a bit more sense if you read those ones first, as it makes references to characters and situations in the earlier chapters, although I think it also stands alone well enough.
This is a work of fiction that is not based on any real persons or events. If you are not legal age to read erotic fiction, please leave now and do not continue reading. For everyone else, I hope that you enjoy it and have fun. Feedback is always welcome.
All materials presented herein copyright the author.
The mid-morning sun warmed my neck as I sipped my coffee on the sidewalk patio. Exams were finished, my parents were at work, and I had the day to myself. I was feeling content, having had more sex in the last week than in my entire previous high school career. I was trying to relax but my mind kept drifting, scanning the other customers going about their morning routines, thinking about how they were oblivious to the fact that they were sitting so close to a raging cock slut.
What would they do, if they knew? Would they be disgusted? Indifferent? Would they want me? Would that retired gentleman next to me put down his paper and stand over me, shoving his fat cock between my lips while the waiter yanked my shorts down and slid his schlong up my ass? Would the two cops in the cruiser parked next to the sidewalk come over to see what the commotion was, then trade places as the first two blew their loads in me?
My musing passed on to how nice the waiter's ass looked in his tight black slacks and what it would be like to bury my face between his cheeks. A shadow fell over the table and the sun on my neck was replaced by the firm grip of a large hand. Turning awkwardly I was faced with a familiar oval belt buckle, engraved with a steer's head, cinching up tight Levi's and a neatly tucked blue gingham shirt. Craning my head upwards I looked over a thick torso and broad shoulders and into Wayne Hollister's pale blue eyes. I instinctively pulled back, but he held me in place effortlessly. He leaned forward, his flat face close to mine.
"Relax," he said in a low voice, "I just want to talk." My heart was racing with panic as this goon loomed over me. The last time I'd seen him, Wayne had been in a fury, having had a whiplash change of heart about his cock being sucked by another guy. I had scrambled out of the high school locker room with his load dribbling down my chin, making a narrow escape.
"Uh...what do we have to talk about? You made it pretty clear how we stood yesterday," I said. He shifted his bulk uncomfortably into the metal patio chair across from me, eyes darting restlessly, looking everywhere but at me. The knuckles on his large hands were scarred white flags that fluttered with the nervous tapping of his blunt fingers. He bit his lip, then inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled, marshaling his resolve.
"I'm sorry," he said simply. His eyes met mine and I could see that there was a faint redness to them that made his irises seem bluer and deeper and softer than I remembered them. I didn't know how to reply and my mouth moved soundlessly, trying to find something to say.
"It's alright," he continued, "you don't have to say anything." He settled in his chair and clasped his hands together, taking another set of deep breaths. "I had a long talk with Felicia - Ms. Jones - yesterday, and I think I figured some things out." He leaned forward and his voice dropped to a low murmur. "I've ... always wanted ... what we did yesterday. Like, since I started to pop boners. I've always been in sports and seeing other guys getting changed, or in the shower ... well let's just say I've spent a lot of time jacking off, thinking about what I wish would happen in the locker room."
He was staring at me intently now, trying to be sure that I understood what he was saying. He pursed his lips and went on. "My parents are religious. I mean church every Sunday, family prayers, bible camp, everything. And my dad, he's important, you know? People look up to him in this town." Wayne shook his head ruefully.
"Anyway, the most important thing for my parents is that we follow the Word, and the word says that gays are sinners, right? Going to hell and all that. 'They twist the moral fabric' my pastor says. And for a man to hold another man in lust is an abomination. No real man would do it," he looked at me again. "It's important that I be a real man."
I had heard a version of this before, from my own parents, but it didn't have to do with church or God. They laughed at 'perverts' the same way they laughed at homeless people, they should just choose to be normal, choose to work for a living, and stop whining about rights and looking for hand-outs. I wondered briefly if part of why I was so excited by my awakening in the past week was because I knew it would piss them off so royally if they ever found out.
"I used to draw, when I was a little kid," Wayne continued, "Super heroes, mostly, but when I was six, I drew a picture of me holding hands with my friend Zack. We used to play together all the time, and at Sunday school they taught us that we should love our friends. My dad freaked out, hard. I got the belt, I wasn't allowed to see Zack again, and all of my drawings and crayons and pencils went in the fireplace. After that it was only hockey and football, and my dad was only happy when I was hurting people on the field or on the ice."
"So, that's it," Wayne said, "I shouldn't have agreed to it when Craig told me his plan. I'm angry, a lot, and I take it out on others." He flexed his calloused hand and shook his head again. "I was angry, at myself, mostly. I shouldn't have tried to take it out on you. I ruined something that should have been ... wonderful."
I sat in stunned silence, trying to grasp what Wayne was telling me. "It's okay, I guess," I stammered. "I mean, what you did wasn't okay, it scared the shit out of me. But I can see what you mean, and I can accept your apology... If you want to talk about it more sometime, I guess we could do that."
"Thanks, I might. You seem to get it." Then he grinned shyly and shifted in his chair again. "I am sorry for how it went down, but ... you were really good at it. I guess you figured that out by the mess I made." I blushed and remembered how excited I was to open his pants and kneel on the locker room floor, the feel of his strong hands in my hair.
"Well, yeah, parts of it were good." I replied. I felt foolish and horny at the same time, not understanding how I could be entertaining his hints, even as I looked up at him through my eye lashes, pursing my lips seductively. Wayne blushed even harder than me and abruptly stood, revealing the bulge in his faded jeans.
