Nude nymphette gallery Small underage nymphets


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Tutoring Jerry pt 8
Hi guy's!! Well here it is! The looooong awaited new chapter. Thanks for all the wonderful emails on the last chapter!!! And thanks for all those who wrote asking why the hell it was taking so long to get this one done!
Well, this one was difficult to get right, dealing with delicate subject matters. I have to give A TON of credit to my editor Jayne Finn, and The Pecman, cuz without their input and objective criticisms, I would have had a FAR LESS cohesive and satisfying chapter-- but at least I can blame them for part of the time it took to re-write scenes! LOL Thank you SO much guys!!!!
And, as you can see, this is in html. Another HUGE THANK YOU to Jayne for turning me on to this amazingly easy and free html program!!!!! It has its limitations-- worst thing is song lyrics and poems get line spaces between each line, but it gives me italics, and it couldn't be easier! For those interested, it's called "Rough Draft" 2.11, free, but donations are definitely appreciated. Go to Richard Salsbury's Home Page to download.
Also, this chapter contains scenes of drug use, so if that bothers you, skip this one-- actually, skip the whole story. I AM NOT advocating the use of drugs of any kind! I draw from my own experiences in high school to create the atmosphere and setting in this story, and in fact, went to high school just down the road from where this story takes place, and in the same years. This story is pure fiction and no, I was not like Danny at all. (Some of you have asked.) Anyway, I'm just reflecting a scene that was reality at the time for my peers and I.
Thanks for your patience! I sure hope it was worth the wait! ENJOY.....See chapter's 1-4 for usage and distribution rights, and all that "If it's illegal to read this where you are blah blah blah..." stuff.
"Do you ever get the feeling that the story's too damn real and in the, present tense?
And that everybody else is on the stage and you're the only other, person, sitting in the audience?
Skating away, skating away, skating away on the thin ice of the new day..." Jethro Tull, "Skating Away" "Uh, nothing, mom. I just wanna go to bed." "What do you mean, nothing? Did you get in a fight? Are you ok? What happened?" She fired the questions like bullets, boring into my eyes. And my eyes weren't ready for them. "Mom. We'll talk about it later, ok? I just gotta go to sleep right now." I pushed gently past her and angled into my bedroom, shutting the door. Naturally, she was concerned, and wasn't going to let it rest that easily. She opened the door and came on into my bedroom, where I stood lost in the middle of the vast floor. She touched my shirt as if to see if she could believe her eyes that it was ripped, and inspected my face, to see if I had bruises, I suppose. She pulled off the yellow gloves and sat the Comet and brush down on my desk. Her tone softened to comforting concern, "Danny, what happened? Did you and your new friend get in a fight?" I turned away from her and rolled my eyes. I new I had to give her something to go on now, or she wouldn't let it go. "Yeah. We had a fight, kinda. Don't worry, Mom, it wasn't a fist fight or nothin' like that." "Then how did your shirt get ripped, and dirt get on the back?" "Um, I was... Jerry... I don't remember how the shirt..." I trailed off, sinking fast. I thought, 'I just can't do this right now, at this moment.' My shoulders felt so heavy. "Danny, I want to know what happened. The first time you spend the night-- two nights-- at a friend's house and you come home like this? What happened?" She moved around in front of me and felt my forehead, mainly to get me to look at her. "It... I can't, Mom." I was on the verge of crying, fighting it with all my might. "I can't." "Danny, you'll feel better if you talk about it to me. Remember how we used to talk? We can tell each other anything. Tell me what happened, please." "I can't talk about it, Mom. I'm sorry. I just can't tell-- I just can't talk about it, ok? I'm sorry." "About your friend? Danny, you need to talk about it. I'll understand. Please, Danny," She moved us toward my bed and sat us down, her arm around my shoulder, her hand on my knee. "What did this boy do to upset you so badly?" "NOTHING MOM!" I struggled free of her grasp, and laid half on the bed, face down. "Not now, please. I can't talk about it now, I just can't. I'm so tired." She laid her hand on my arm, gently squeezing, "Ok, Danny, get some rest. We can talk about it later." She stood up, leaned down and kissed my cheek. I heard her retreat, and the door shutting quietly. I got my shoes off, but didn't even have the energy to get undressed; I was out like a light in seconds. Something didn't feel right. I got up and went to the bathroom, in just my briefs, feeling awkward and numb. I peed and went to the sink to wash up. As I turned the water on, I glanced in the mirror and saw a large gaping hole in my chest. "When did that happen?" I asked myself out loud. I looked again and saw that it was where my heart should be-- and that I had no pulse-- and I panicked. I turned my head to yell, keeping my eyes on the mirror and the hole in my chest, "MOM! Have you seen my heart?" No response. I stepped over and opened the door to yell again. It opened into the shower room of the gym at Jerry's house, and there he was, standing naked under one of the sprays, with his back to me, busy doing something. I walked toward him to see what he was doing. He glanced around at me and turned himself so he'd remain facing away, "I'll be done in a minute, Danny. Go work out or something-- you're so weak." "I don't have time, I'm looking for my heart. What're you doing?" I just knew I should see what it was he was doing. "Oh, just washing this clean," he kept angling away from me. "Washing what clean?" "It's nothing, Danny. Would you tell my mom I'll be done in personal nymphet a minute?" "What are you washing, Jerry?" I reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling myself around in front of him and saw my still beating heart in his hands. He was washing the blood off of it. "It's nothing, Danny, just your heart." He sounded annoyed that I was bothering him. "H-how did you get it?" "You gave it to me, don't you remember?" he had sarcasm in his voice, and a smug look on his face as he looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "But you didn't want it!" nymphet cgi bbs
I said with tears running down my face. "There you go again, Danny, always crying! You're such a fucking baby!" he said with contempt as he turned away from me again. I watched his back muscles ripple with his movements and wondered, 'What's going on here?'
I slid myself around on the tiles in front of him again and tried to grab my heart out of his hands, "Give it back! I need it!" He held it up out of reach, "Mom! Danny's trying to take his heart back!" Mrs. Loring came in the shower room, dressed to impress, in stiletto heels and a knockout jacket and skirt combo in icy blue to match her eyes. She stopped just inside and stared me down with that arctic gaze that made my blood coagulate. I felt myself shrink to four feet tall. "Danny! Why do you insist on making trouble? What's your DEEP SEATED PROBLEM?!" She asked, in an almost hysterical voice. "I..." I mumbled and looked down at the tiles, watching the blood of my heart wash down the drain. "Why don't you go lie on the workout bench, and we'll have a psychoanalysis session. Let's see if we can get to the root of your problem-- it'll only take a few minutes," she added calmly. "But..." I mumbled and looked everywhere but at her. Jerry-- completely comfortable with his nakedness in front of her-- was still washing my heart off, and when I looked to my left, I saw theatre seats, with my mom and dad, my aunt and grandpa, sitting there watching us as if watching a play. As I looked, I saw there were others in the seats around them: Ron and Rachel Green were giving me thumbs up's. Mr. Janke was sitting there in only his boxer shorts, playing with himself through the cloth, grinning at me. And there were other teachers I'd had a bond of some sort with over the years, and a couple of other people I didn't recognize. There was a girl and a longhaired blonde guy bouncing in their seats, waving their arms and smiling at me, along with some old friends from other places I'd lived. Everyone in the seats began yelling warnings at me: "Don't do it!" "Don't let her get inside your head!" "You be careful around her, Danny!" "I wouldn't go in there if I were you!" I looked down and I was naked-- and still four feet tall, with the big bloodless hole in my chest. I didn't know what else to do and didn't have time to be embarrassed, so I lunged for my heart and Jerry laughed as he tossed it to his mom. She caught it and held it out at arms length, examining it. "Well, it's not much to look at, but if Jerry wants it..." She said with contempt, arching her perfect eyebrows. "IT'S MINE!" I yelled, and the crowd went wild, everyone yelling, rooting for me. I ran toward Mrs. Loring, my bare feet slipping and sliding on the tiles, trying to grab my heart. Just as I made it to her, she tossed it back to Jerry. He laughed and tossed it up in the air, acting like he wasn't going to catch it, then darting his hand out at the last second, snatching it before it fell. The crowd let out a collective "Ooohh." "You're gonna drop it!" I yelled in a panic as I tried to run to catch it if he missed. "Can I keep this awhile? I just wanna play with it," he grinned. He tossed it up in the air again. All eyes were on my heart, miles above my raised hands, hovering in the air before it started its descent. Then he snatched it out of the air and tossed it over his shoulder. It bounced off the backboard of a basketball goal that had mysteriously replaced the shower nozzle, rolling around the rim several times, finally dropping through the net, where Jerry caught it and went for a rebound. An announcer could be heard over a distorted P.A. system calling the plays, "And Jerry Loring goes for yet another rebound! Howard, I think he's just showing off now..." "You are a raging imbecile, Brian, this wonderkind is just exercising his God-given natural talents!" "Yeah, but that dwarf boy is at a distinct disadvantage-- and it is his heart in play..." "Well, Brian, ya gotta pay to play." "Go Jerry! Don't disappoint me!" Mrs. Loring cautioned Jerry as she cheered him on. "NO! IT'S MINE! I WANT IT BACK!" I yelled as I tried to play defense with Jerry. My arms and hands were sluggish and uncoordinated. Everyone was on their feet yelling-- sounding like a crowd of twenty thousand at a major league basketball game. Mrs. Loring was suddenly flanking me and darting around in her stiletto heels, getting good traction on the tiles-- while I slid around clumsily-- waving her hands around to distract me for Jerry, so he could keep rebounding with my heart. "Give it up!" Mrs. Loring said to me, "You know he's the star of the team here-- you don't stand a chance! You're so inadequate. You know you aren't good enough for my Jerry." I was grabbing at Jerry's arms, and he yelled, "FOUL!" He stopped and looked down at me, "Look, it never happened." as he hid my heart behind his back, smiling at me, the picture of innocence on his face. Mrs. Loring was behind me and she leaned in close and whispered in my ear: "Just remember I love you, no matter what." "NO!!!" I sat bolt upright in bed, heaving and gasping. I instinctively felt my chest. It was dark in the room, but there was light coming from under the door. I looked around and saw that I was safe in my own bedroom, and calmed down a little. Then the door opened and my mom stepped hesitantly in. "Did you have a bad dream?" her silhouette asked from the light of the door. "I heard you yell." "Oh." I was still sitting up, trying to catch my breath. "Yeah, uh, bad dream." "Are you ok? Are you ready for some dinner? We have pot roast and potatoes," she tried to make it sound enticing. "It's nine o'clock, and you haven't eaten since at least this morning, if you ate then." She came over and turned on the small table lamp on my nightstand. I blinked and tried to hide my trembling hands between my knees. "You need to eat something Danny. Come on out and have some dinner, ok?" She was showing her concern, but I just didn't feel like I could deal with her, let alone my dad, right then. "I could... Maybe I could eat a little here at my desk." I offered weakly. "Yeah, that'd be good. Be right back," and she almost ran out of the room. She returned in less than two minutes with a heaping plate of food, and sat it on the desk. I still hadn't lollita nymphets moved. "Here, Danny. Come on over here and eat however much you want. If you'll eat you'll feel better." I stepped over to my desk and acted like I was going to eat, but just stared at my food. She stood still for a moment, then left without another word. I stared at the massive pile of roast and potatoes, with all the celery and onions, smothered in gravy. It smelled good. I played with it for a minute, then took a bite. It tasted like sand. I got undressed and got in bed. I laid there in the darkness forever. The dream played itself over and over in my head, mixed with images of Jerry holding me down in the flowerbed, nostrils flaring, "NO! Not until I know..." "Just because I don't love you, doesn't mean..." "I don't love you." "I don't love you." "I don't love you." "Can I keep this awhile?" "You're so inadequate." "Well, it's not much..." "Can I keep this awhile?" "It never happened." I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. I was facing the wall when mom came in to take the plate away. I could picture the worried look on her sweet round face, when she saw that I hadn't eaten anything. She didn't say a word, and closed the door behind her. "Time to get ready for school!" Mom said through the door, much too cheerfully. I didn't respond. There was no way in hell I was going to school. After ten minutes or so, she knocked on my door, just as I heard Dad asking her where his keys were. "On the breakfast bar by your coffee, Ben. Danny? Time to get ready for school." "I'm not going." free sexy nymphets She opened the door and stepped partly in. "Are you still upset? You don't want to miss school, hon." "I'm not going today." I said with finality, to the wall. There was a long silence. "Well ok. There's cereal and fruit in there. Eat something, Danny, ok?" She closed the door, and I heard my dad's TV repair truck start up and head out. About a half hour later, I heard Mom start up her Buick, heading to the mall to sell clothes. I headed down into my own little hell. Battling The BeastEvery tear I've ever cried is swirling in a cold red tide
that's sucking all the solid ground out from beneath my feet
Struggling just to hold my ground I glimpse the beast that pulls me down
and guess I always knew someday the beast and I would meetMy soul is just a pen to hold the greedy beast within
it holds me down and clips my wings when I presume that I can fly
Teasing me with happiness, and feeding on my emptiness
it laughs because I want to think that love is not a lieTearing at my seams, it's wreaking terror on my dreams
and digging holes to hell too wide and deep to ever fill with love
Perching me up on the brink it tells me just to jump, don't think
and when I hesitate it offers me a friendly shove Looking back towards the light the beast convinces me it's right
since everything was wrong about me, this was meant to be
As I fall I hear the laughter, this is what the beast was after
and of course I've always known the beast within was me I stand on the edge of the abyss and contemplate my life. The wind howls in my ears as the immeasurably distant sunset radiates deep shimmering coral warmth to my eyes, reminding me that I have no one to share beauty with, leaving me cold. I used to dream that there was a reason for living this life. I used to dream of happiness. I was consumed by the dreaming. No longer. I have searched and even prayed, wandering the maze of my mind for hours on end, in a desperate attempt to find any justification for this existence. I have found none. Loneliness is of my pulse, ever present, even when I manage to forget it for a moment. Always there, like an involuntary reflex, it seems it is the default state of my existence. I have nothing to offer anybody, nothing to offer in love-- Jerry proved that. It was so easy to let me go. In the last four years, every birthday was just me and my parents. If I saw my eighteenth birthday, it would be the same; out to dinner and a movie or something equally friendless. Just to have someone to talk to, just to have the ability to be able to make close friends, are things I've never known. How many times did I start to initiate a conversation with someone, and nothing would come out? I can't blame others for that. It's me, I'm the problem. I've so wanted to know what it would be like if one time, just one time, I walked into a room and even one of my peers noticed me, if just one person said "Hi Danny!" Showing they actually knew my name. I see all the couples, holding hands and kissing, sanctioned by a world that tells me I am an affront to their eyes and a threat to their way of life, for wanting to love and be loved in my own way. What's the use in keeping it going? I stare into the abyss and the memories of all the pain and all the joy drift up to sidle past my mind's eye. The abacus adds them up and calculates the value, finding pain to be the clear and present winner. The qualities of joy are intense, but fleeting. Pain has a lasting quality. You can count on it. It doesn't leave. Joy will mask the pain, momentarily, but pain's tenacious nature assures me that it will always move to the front of the moment soon enough to remind me that joy is tenuous, delicate-- not really worth the effort it takes to create, or to experience it. What of my love for Jerry? What is my love? People say that youth cannot experience true love. Most people consider first love a harmless delusion we blind ourselves with for all the wrong reasons, mostly libido. OK. Then why does it physically hurt to have my heart broken? Why does it render me nonfunctional? Why nymphets cotton panties does it make me feel like I'd rather die than feel this way? How can anybody say this isn't real? How can anybody say this isn't important, or that it has less value than it would if I were older? I feel this in every cell of my body, in every niche of my mind and every aspect of my soul. And it's NOT just sex. Yes my physical need is ever present in my thoughts-- I acknowledge that I am a horny teenager-- little nymphet galleries but it goes much deeper than that. Much, much deeper. Jerry and I have-- had-- a deep connection. I know that connection was love, because it was so overwhelming, so intense; more profound than I would ever have dreamed it could be. Love and happiness came so fast, and were gone even faster-- well the happiness is gone, but the love remains within me, one-sided. Does my youth, or the rapid-fire nature of this milestone in my life make it less real or worthy?
"Time to get ready for school, Danny." Mom said through the door Tuesday morning. "Ok." I moaned. "You feelin' better today?" Dad stuck his head in the door as I was standing up, forcing me to quickly attempt to cover up my morning wood. "No." He hesitated, "Well, when ya get goin', you'll get with it," he smiled. I didn't respond. He closed the door and finished getting ready for work. I knew I couldn't get away with trying to say I was sick again, so I went ahead and got ready for school. I knew the timing of both parents, so I waited 'til Dad was gone, and went to the bus stop. I hid in a long row of Oleanders as the bus came and went. Within fifteen minutes I saw Mom's car turn the corner in the other direction. I went back home. Back to my self-pity. I told Jerry that day that the world doesn't want people like me to be happy. Did I choose to love a man? No. How could anybody think that I would 'choose' to live like this? How could anybody think I would choose to be rejected by the entire world? I remember so vividly, running terrified as fast as I could, the larger boys in groups of three to five catching me, then the blows to my stomach, my face, my head. When I collapsed, kicks to my ribs, back and groin. I remember shrinking from their taunts, telling me how sick I was, what a disgusting faggot I was-- things that hurt far worse than the physical young ebony nymphets blows. I remember the abject fear in my mind, of the brutality that I couldn't understand-- because I didn't even know that I WAS this sick, less than human 'thing' they were calling me. I remember being oh so careful not to let my parents see the bruises all over my body, and trying to trivialize the black eyes and facial bruises as just "routine" teenage fights. I remember the years after that, when I was thirteen and it began to dawn on me that I WAS INDEED the horribly sick and twisted thing they'd called me. I remember getting nauseous the night it really hit me, and crying and cursing God for making me this way. I tried to make it not so! Oh God how I tried! I tried to deny it. I tried to think heterosexual. I tried to think of girls. I tried not to think of boys. I tried many diversions. I tried to be A-sexual, and just not think about sex at all. I tried to bury myself in academics, in non-sexual fantasy, in books, in activities, music-- but no matter what I tried, the sight of a good-looking guy taking his shirt off in the afternoon sun while mowing the grass would make me tingle, make my cock twitch and my mouth water. I didn't choose this. I didn't choose this life. I didn't choose any of it-- and I don't have to stay for it.
Tuesday evening, as I left my room to go to the bathroom, I overheard a fragment of my parents conversation: "Well, if that's the case, I don't know what to do..." my dad was saying. "I don't either, but we've got to try and be ready for it if it turns out I'm right. It may be what his problem is. This whole thing is..." I pushed on the bathroom door and they heard it squeak and stopped talking. I knew at the time that they were talking about me, and would normally have been on 'high alert' and listened through the door for the rest of their conversation; but I could have cared less at that moment. My focus was so completely trained on Jerry and my misery, that I could have overheard them discussing smothering me in my sleep and it wouldn't have made me change focus. Smothering me, in fact, would have been welcomed. Wednesday morning I repeated the maneuver from Tuesday, and stayed home again. I couldn't possibly go to school in this state of mind, but trying to stay home 'legally' would involve way too much dealing with my preeteen nymphets nude parents. I had no idea if I would get caught or not, but I would handle that when and if it happened. Well, it's down to the wire. All my little left-brain reasoning has brought me to this: Do I want to continue living this lonely, painful existence or just go ahead and check out? All I need to think of is Jerry's face when he said "I don't love you." It was too easy for him. Is that how it goes? Is it just that easy for one person to crush another? Why should I stick around for more of that? Along with everything else about me, I think it's time to check out."
You can check out anytime you like... There's a razor blade in the bathroom. That just seems so-- painful. I'm a wuss. I know that. I just want to die painlessly. I don't have a car to end in a spectacular drive off the Kemah drawbridge, and we don't own any guns. There are no sleeping pills in the house, just Mom's thyroid medicine and aspirin. I've heard you CAN overdose on aspirin, but it doesn't sound like a sure thing. What other options are there? The gas! Turn the gas on and just relax. That's the way. Leave a note for Mom and Dad-- I don't want them to blow themselves up when they come home. Put the note on the front door, warning them of the gas. Tell them why I did it. God, I know it will just devastate Mom and Dad. Even if I made it very clear that it wasn't their fault in any way, I am their only child. I hate the thought, that to end my misery, I have to cause them misery. But this isn't about them. It's about me. I can't stand this life. I'm not going to stick around just for the sake of not hurting them. They'll get over it eventually. What do I want to do with my last hours on earth? Nothing. I want ice cream. I'll write the note and then have some ice cream. The dreaming is over.
Dear Mom and Dad,
First of all, I want to say that I love you with all my heart. I want you to know that I know how very much you love me too. So I want to make sure you know that I have decided to take my own life for many reasons, but not one of those reasons is because of you two, or anything either of you ever did.
I'm doing this because life is just a daily torture for me. Mainly because I have known for years that I was gay. I tried so hard to deny it to myself, but I couldn't. I have felt so completely alone in this world, and so dishonest with myself and everyone else, because I couldn't tell anyone the truth about me, including you.
Last week, I fell in love with a guy-- yes the one I stayed with. They were the happiest, most wonderful two days of my entire life. I loved him and he loved me. Sunday morning, his mom came home and found us asleep together. She had a talk with him, and he came and told me it was over, to get out of his life. I can't handle that.
Between that, and the daily hell of loneliness I've lived for most of my years, I just can't go on any longer. But the main purpose of this note is to make you understand that THIS IS NOT YOUR FAULT! I love you, and the only regret I feel right now is that I know how much this will hurt you both-- please forgive me. Danny
Tears slid down my cheeks as I wrote the letter-- only because I kept thinking how much it would hurt them. I folded it over and wrote in large letters on the back: HOUSE IS FILLED WITH GAS-- DON'T GO IN! READ THIS NOW. DANNY I walked to the kitchen and found there was no ice cream. Shit. I decided that a walk to the store would be satisfying in some strange way-- a last look at this world. I felt very pragmatic and fairly unemotional about it all. I wasn't crying anymore, I was just ready to get it over with. I got dressed and walked out the door. It was cloudy and gloomy outside. Fitting. I walked along thinking how I was seeing it all for the last time. I saw no beauty in anything, and was thinking how I wouldn't miss it at all-- if there were any existence beyond this one to be still aware of this one in. If there was a heaven, as in the Bible, then there was a hell, and that's where you go if you commit suicide. Fine. I didn't want to be with a God who made me love men and then told me I was evil because of that, anyway. About three doors away from Ron and Rachel's house, I started remembering Sunday morning. About that time, I saw a tan Malibu coming down the road. By the time I got to their house, I saw it was Rachel. She pulled in the driveway waving at me. I paused behind her car. She got out and smiled cheerfully, "Danny! I'm so glad to see you! How're you doing?" "Hi, Rachel." I managed a half-hearted smile. "Um, I..." I trailed off. "Why don't you come inside and visit with me for a bit?" She seemed to sense something. "Uh, I'm on my way to get some, ice cream." I mumbled and started walking away. "Well, I have some inside, if you like cookie dough or strawberry. Why don't you come in?" She was being as persuasive as she could without being demanding. I paused, because she was so nice and I didn't want to be cold toward her, "I uh, don't think I can be around... I'm not..." I didn't need this complication. I had a mission. I thought about how nice she had been to me and felt sad. "It was nice to have met you, Rachel. 'Bye." I turned and started walking quickly away. She trotted after me, grabbing my shirtsleeve when she caught up with me. "Whoa, Danny." She stepped in front of me and looked at my face. I wouldn't look her in the eyes. "What's going on? What are you doing? I've seen that look before, Danny, and it scares the hell out of me. Please. Please come inside and talk to me." "No. I can't. I have things to do. I don't feel like talking. It wouldn't do-- I have to go." She stepped in front of me as I started around her, "Danny! You've got to talk to me! Five minutes! That's all I ask. Please, come inside." She turned me around and started us toward the house. "Rachel, you're very nice, but there's nothing you can do for me. I need to go." I protested as she pulled me through the front door. She pushed me down into a sofa and sat next to me. "Danny, what are you thinking? What have you been thinking about?" She had an urgency in her voice, though she was trying to sound calm. "Nothing." "Danny, like I said, I've seen that look before-- on my brother Robert. I need to know what's going through your head right now." "Rachel, I know you're trying to help, but... But you can't." I was amazed that I was staying dry eyed. Running into her was bringing all kinds of emotions up inside me. "Maybe I can, Danny. I helped Robert bring himself back from... Maybe I can help you too. Robert's happy now. He's in a wonderful relationship with a good man, and very glad to be alive. Danny, just talk it out with me, please," she pleaded. She must have found some nerve in me that was still alive, getting past the flat, dark state of mind I was operating in. I didn't even remember drinking any water in the last couple of days, but I sure had a ready supply of tears, and I unloaded. "I just can't do this anymore!" I sobbed as she wrapped her arms around me and let me cry into her bosom again. "Oh Danny, I know it seems like it's not gonna let up, but the pain will go away after awhile. No one is worth killing yourself over, baby, no one." "It's not just him. It's all of it. It's being so alone. It's being gay, knowing I'm hated by everyone; and then when I thought I'd found someone who loved me, he just threw me away like I didn't mean a thing to him!" I told her about Huntsville and the taunting and beatings. I told sweet underage nymphets her about the isolation. I told her about the fear of coming out to my parents or anybody. I told her about everything. We talked for a good three hours, well into the afternoon. She told me about the gay community in Houston, and all the strides they were making in politics and how there were groups and organizations that could help, that could teach me to accept myself, and show me that I wasn't alone, that I could meet others just like me. She told me there were newspapers and magazines for us and she would get Robert to bring some with him at the end of the month; when he and Bill were going to come for Ron's birthday party-- she insisted I come-- and I agreed to join them then. She wanted me to see a happy gay couple, who've been together for four years-- to know it was possible. She helped me realize there were people on my side. She said she'd heard about groups forming in different cities that brought golden nymphets parents and friends of lesbians and gays together to help each other understand all of this. She helped me see that once I was out of high school, and no longer trapped in the same place everyday with no choices, life changes drastically. And I could go to the city and live openly if I wanted to-- the end of high school wasn't too far away, and college would be a big change too. I left around three in the afternoon. I felt much better. I felt like I was just underneath the surface, seeing light-- where I had been down in the cold blackness when she caught me. I felt I could probably deal with all of it, over time. She made me promise to call her if I started slipping again, stuffing her phone number into my pocket. I thanked her for being such a beautiful a person, and we hugged tightly. I told her she and Ron were in my dream the other night. That night, I didn't even cry when I thought of Jerry. I ached in my heart, but I didn't cry.Thursday morning I faked sick again and barely got by with it, only because Dad had to leave early and Mom was running late. I just needed this one more day to get my head together. Everything Rachel had said made a lot of sense, and gave me some hope. I was very grateful for her lifesaving intervention. Now I had to look beyond Jerry, beyond my heartbreak. I wasn't at all sure how I would get beyond that, but I knew I had to or I wouldn't make it. First of all, I had to totally accept that I was gay. I knew I definitely couldn't function If I didn't acknowledge that to myself. I stripped out of my underwear and stood in front of the long thin mirror mounted on my closet door. I looked myself over and pointed at my face, speaking out loud, "You are a homosexual! You are queer! You are GAY! You always have been. You've known it, and after this last weekend, there's no use trying to deny it, so just get over yourself! Things'll get better. Life can't be all that bad." I turned my body to look at my backside. Craning my neck, I looked at my butt and thought of Friday and Saturday with Jerry. A rush went all over my body as I remembered the first time he penetrated me. I remembered the pain and I remembered the incredible pleasure-- and how I couldn't get enough, "Made for fucking." I snickered as I flexed my cheeks, watching my bubble butt ripple and clench in the mirror. I looked up at my face, "Ok, so Jerry doesn't want you any more, but that doesn't mean you'll never find anyone else." I used my most logical tone of voice as I turned around to see my front side again. "I know I'm nothing special, but hey, I'm not that bad either!" I almost thought I could convince myself of this if I said it with enough emphasis out loud. "I mean, if Jerry was so into me before SHE showed up, I must not be totally undesirable. Maybe I should start working out. Yeah, check into that. Gain some weight, bulk-up. Skinny-assed faggot." I sneered at myself. I twisted my hips to view my butt again, "Well, your ass is actually pretty nice. Round and firm. But the rest of you needs a lot of work." I shot a quick glance back over my shoulder as I moved away from the mirror. I went and sat down at my desk. My somewhat lighthearted mood evaporated when I pulled the suicide note nude art nymphets
out of my poetry folder in the lower drawer and re-read it, a couple of tears making their way down my cheeks. It all just seemed so insurmountable. I wondered if I could will myself to find the desire to stay with it, to "Keep on truckin'" as they say. My whole life from about eight years old on had been so overwhelmingly lonely, and I honestly couldn't picture it getting any better, "Because of this factor." I said aloud as I dug the porno pictures I'd found at Kmart out from their hiding place up inside the desk frame. I looked at the ragged pages, stained and faded from many a session with the sweat of my clutching fingers and palms, wrinkled from handling so much you could hardly make out some of the scenes. To think that these porn pictures had been my only hope, the sole outward expression of my identity. That thought hit me as sad. But they had been left there for me, a gesture, to say "You're not the only one." For the first time, I looked at them and didn't get an erection. As I looked, all of the scenes became Jerry and I, reminding me-- as if I could forget for more than a minute-- that I had had real, incredible sex with a guy so beautiful and physically perfect I would never have thought I could possibly find myself with him, making love to me and saying he 3d nymphets shy loved me. I wished it had never happened. If it hadn't, I might have eventually found some equally plain and average guy and never have missed what I had been so sure I could never aquire in the first place. Now how would I ever find someone as plain and nondescript as me satisfying? Oh I know that's so pedo underage nymphet gallery superficial and shallow. I know it's mature mom nymphets
what's inside that counts, and apparently, Jerry didn't have "what's inside that counts." So now I have to just accept that and forget him. "Ok, so how do I get him out of my head? How do I move on? What the hell do I do?" As I spoke, I thought about how it was supposed to be a sign of mental illness if you asked and answered your own questions out loud to yourself. So I didn't answer myself-- which was easy, 'cause I didn't have a clue as to how to get Jerry out of my head. Thursday evening, when they got home, Mom nymphets stars top and Dad ganged up on me. They caught me sitting on the edge of the bed, and sat on either side of me. I stared at the floor while dad fidgeted and started in, "Danny, we've been trying to be patient and understanding, but this has got to stop," Dad said grimly. "You've never had any problems before, except, well, I guess back in Huntsville, when you went through that period where you wouldn't go to school, and were getting in fights." `No,' I thought, 'I didn't "get into" fights-- I tried to get away, but couldn't out run them. And I never told you why it happened.' He put his hand on my knee, as he sat too close to me. I wouldn't look either of them in the eyes. Dad was looking around the room, eyeing my Led Zeppelin and Star Wars posters. "Danny, you've got to... " Mom started. "You've got to get a hold of yourself, Danny," Dad finished for her. "You're almost through with high school. You can't let everything go now. You have your pick of lot's of great colleges, and two scholarships offered. Look, whatever it is that's got you so down, you need to let it go, and get on with your life." I could see his discomfort with this discussion-- well, lecture, since I wasn't saying anything. I left the room, mentally. I was doing much better. I hadn't cried all day today. I was trying desperately to eliminate crying from my life. I slugged myself in the stomach when I started crying a couple of times, conditioning myself to stop that shit. I would slug myself as hard as I could every time I started, from now on. 'I will no longer be a fucking baby! I'll be eighteen in two and a half weeks-- I am a MAN! Yeah right. And FUCK HIM! Jerry is out of my life!'
"So you're going back to school tomorrow, right?" Dad was saying as I snapped back to the room. He wanted an answer. "Yeah." I said with no real conviction. "Good. And remember, Danny, we're here for you. If you have questions about anything, about school, about drugs, about g--" he stopped himself and looked away, finishing, "-- anything, we're here for you, 'k Bud?" I saw him start to give me a hug, and decide I wasn't receptive to it at that moment, so he stood up, squeezed my shoulder, and basically handed the floor to mom. She started in, maternally, as Dad left the room. I watched him go, and felt guilty for shutting both of them out like this. It was so sad that I couldn't open up to them. Though I knew they were nothing like Mrs. Loring, I just couldn't risk the possible rejection of coming out to them. I would definitely have nothing left in the world to live for if they rejected me. I knew I wasn't strong enough to handle that. Someday maybe, but not right now. The note was still in my poetry notebook. Mom was trying again to get me to open up to her. I heard the front door close and Dad's truck drive away. She was talking on and on, but my mind was just a blank. After a bit, I made myself focus on her, "... but that's the way life is, Danny, things happen that we don't like, that sometimes hurt us deeply, but we have to move past them," she was saying, as I drifted back to real time. "Like your dad said, you're almost through with high school, and a whole new world will open up for you in college." She waved her hand in front of my face, "Are you in nude nymphette gallery there? Have you heard anything I've said?" "Uh yeah. You were talking about high school being almost over, and how college would be new." She looked askance at me, but went on, "Have you decided which scholarship to accept?" "Uh, no, not yet." "Well, you have a little more time, but not too long, to decide. I want to tell you again how proud we are of you, Danny. You can do anything you set your mind to." I looked at her and smiled. "Thanks Mom." About that time, I heard two cars drive up. Within a minute, I heard my dad come through the front door, talking to someone. They came directly to my room, and Dad peeked around the doorjamb at me. "Bud, would you please come with me?" I looked up at him like 'What the hell?' He didn't move, so I got up and shuffled out with him and Dwayne, the guy that works for him at his TV repair shop. Dad led me outside by my shoulders, keeping Dwayne close in front of me so I couldn't see, and I kept barely missing stepping on his heels. When we got to the edge of the driveway, Dad jangled a set of keys in front of my face. I didn't comprehend. Then big-assed Dwayne stepped out of the way, and there in the driveway, was a '76 Camaro, metal flake blue, with a white, double wide racing stripe through the middle from bumper to bumper. My mouth hung open. I couldn't believe my eyes. Dad started in talking fast, "It's for your eighteenth birthday and graduation both. It's not brand new-- I just can't afford a brand new one, but it's absolutely like brand new-- in mint condition. I saw you looking at one like this in that magazine at the shop. I hope you like it. It was supposed to stay at Dwayne's until your birthday, but I thought you could really use it right now. I hope you like it Danny. Now all that money you saved over the last year or so, can go towards things you want for college, 'cause you won't have to buy a car. I wanted to make sure you had a sexy car, not no Gramada." I chuckled as dad used the term he and I had for 'granny cars' like Granada's. We called them all "Gramada's". "It DEFINITELY ain't no Gramada!" I exclaimed. Dad was as excited as I was, maybe more so. I was still awestruck. I just couldn't believe how beautiful it was. I walked around the nose, caressing the warm hood, then turned and ran back to Dad and threw myself at him, hugging him tightly. "Oh God IT'S BEAUTIFUL DAD!" I yelled in his ear. Mom was standing just behind him, beaming. "Well let's go for a spin!" He said excitedly as he released his hug. I ran around and jumped in the driver's seat, settling into the white vinyl that still smelled pretty new to me. He opened his door and helped Dwayne squeeze into the back seat, which wasn't easy for roly-poly Dwayne. Then Dad sat in the passenger seat-- and he had to pull the seatbelt a little further around his own gut than he used to as well. "It was a repo, so it's only got 1,100 miles on it. It's a four on the floor, 350 small block, got am/fm and a cassette deck and a/c, and look, a sunroof! Crank it up!" He said, indicating the ignition. I checked to make sure everything was in the right place and turned the key. It roared to life and sent chills down my spine. The radio was already loud, and set on KLOL, the best rock station in Houston, since Dwayne drove it over. I'd had my license since I was sixteen, and had driven Dad's truck many times, even into Houston with him, so I was comfortable with a stick. We drove Dwayne the short drive to his parent's house and let him out. Then we just cruised the neighborhood. The night was only slightly chilly. We went to a new road, that had nothing but sidewalks and a few cement foundations lining it, and Dad told me to come to a stop. "See what this baby can do, Bud! You know how to pop the clutch?" "Yeah, never done it, but I've watched other guys do it." "Go for it!" I did it pretty damn good, laying rubber for a good ten or twelve feet. Dad was impressed. "HELL YEAH!!" He yelled. "God, I miss having a muscle car! I know you've heard me talk about my old '58 Impala with the continental kit, enough times. I had that thing bossed-up so hot! It's how I got yer mom to go out with me, ya know." "Yeah, Dad, you've told me," a million times. "I know. I just hope you love this car as much as I loved buying it for you. You know, we've never had much illegall nymphets money, and I've never been able to give you nice things. But we're doing better now than ever before, and since I wasn't able to give you all the things I wanted to all these years, I hope this will kind of make up for that. You've just been such a joy to us, son, and you're about to go off to college and find your way in the world..." He was almost choked up. "I know I've not told you often enough how proud we are of you, and how much we love you. And here we're about to lose you..." I cringed. "You're becoming a man." He put his hand on my shoulder. "Thanks Dad. I know y'all love me, and I love you too. And you couldn't have gotten a more fantastic birthday present for me. Thank you!" I looked at him and smiled, thinking how I almost tore his heart out in the cruelest way just yesterday morning. I pictured him and mom finding my lifeless body and the look of utter devastation on their faces. A shiver went down my spine and I thanked Rachel again. We drove around aimlessly for a while. Somehow, inadvertently, by coincidence, purely by chance, we ended up driving by Jerry's house. His car was in the triple wide driveway, beside a big black Mercedes. I slowed to a crawl as we got directly in front, looking to see if his bedroom light was on. It was. "Nice house." Dad commented when he saw where I was looking, "Friend of yours live there?" I didn't answer `til we were past it. "Someone I used to know," I sighed. We drove a little more, and I headed for our house, listening to the radio. I would have to go buy some cassettes, 'cause all I had were 8-tracks for my stereo in my room. After a bit, Dad spoke up, "Is that where you were last weekend?" I glanced over at him. I didn't want to answer, but of course I had to. "Yeah." "Are you gonna keep tutoring him?" "Uh, no, I don't think so. No." "Oh." He had caught the drop in my voice and spirit. "Danny, something really, um, traumatic must have happened there. Why don't you tell me what it was?" Because I don't want to cry anymore. Because I need to think about something else, anything else, for a minute, for ten seconds... Like my car.
"I just can't talk about it yet, Dad. I'm erotic bbs nymphets sorry, I just can't." I mumbled. He had to lean toward me a little to hear me over the radio. He turned it down. "Son, there's nothing that can happen, that's so bad you can't tell me or your mother. We're so worried about you right now-- it's tearing your mother apart." His voice was consoling. I could only think: 'Well if you knew your son wants to suck dick and have dick shoved up his ass by that 'friend', you'd both be a whole lot more torn up-- not to mention shocked and disgusted. Hell, you'd probably have a heart attack. I've heard enough of your jokes and off-hand comments about queers over the years to know I can't tell you. I couldn't live with your shame. God, I wish I had the nerve to tell you, Dad. I wish I had the nerve to tell you how much I'm hurting. I wish you could take this pain away, like you used to be able to do.'
"Dad," I tried to sound firm, "it's not that big a deal. I'll get over it. I'm going back to school tomorrow-- in my new Camaro!" I tried to finish the sentence sounding upbeat. He let it drop. "Time to get ready for school!" Mom used her singsong voice. "Ok. Be out in a minute." My hands trembled as I combed my hair in the mirror on my closet door. I had dark circles and bags under my eyes. 'Man, I do look like shit,' I thought to myself. 'And I still don't need a shave.'
It was so strange; there was the euphoria of driving to school in my beautiful, 'sexy' new car, that would "Leave the others chasing shadows!" as they said in their ads, tempered, no, crushed, by the fear of seeing Jerry. What would happen if I saw him? What would I do? How would HE act? Would he act like he didn't know me? Fortunately, we didn't share any classes, and I knew there'd been many days over the course of the year, when I didn't see him all day at school-- with 3,500 students, the school was big enough that it was easily possible. Maybe I could get through the day without seeing him. Maybe I could get through the day. A couple of people looked at me, in nymphets lands info my sparkling new car, when I cruised into the parking lot, but none of them knew me. Nobody knew me. I don't know what possessed me, what I thought might happen, but I parked right next to Jerry's car. I had a flash picture in my mind, of arriving at our cars at the same time to leave, and me throwing a smug smile at him, like, 'I got something to take my mind off of you. Here you are, all rich and everything, but I got the same fucking car, so there!' I could be so childish-- but I knew also, that I wouldn't be able to pull off that immature little game if that encounter actually happened. I knew he'd already been there for an hour or so, for swim practice. I forced the vision of Jerry, in his shiny gold Speedo with black trim out of my mind, and braced myself to go in through building D. Mr. Janke was my homeroom teacher. I was pretty early, as I still had the bus schedule for a nymphet star cutie
habit. He looked surprised to see me. "Well, if it isn't Mr. Dresden! I'm glad you deigned to grace us with your presence! I was surprised to hear you were sick. You never miss school!" He was his usual jovial self, even early in the morning. I blushed a little and smiled, "Um, I was..." I hadn't expected anyone to notice I was missing, and didn't actually know if my mom had told the office I had a cold or what. As I approached his desk, he looked at me and his smile faded. "Jeez, you look like you should still be at home, Danny."
"I'm fine, Mr. Janke." "Good. It's good to have you back!" His smile returned with a vengeance. He made me feel better. I thought about how I used to fantasize about him, so tall, thin and sexy, with those green eyes and jet-black hair, his gaunt, angular features overflowing with warmth and humor. He was somewhere in his late twenties. I didn't know if he was aware of it, but he just exuded sensuality, like he'd be a romantic and tender lover. I could dream! He showed me what I had missed in the last four days in his English Lit. class, my second period, then I started toward my usual desk. I had always sat at the front of the room in his class, so I could watch him, and watch for glimpses of the outline of his dick showing through the cloth of his slacks when he walked or turned-- as he wore boxers, and it hung down-- and I had been rewarded with a few good shots of what looked like a very nice dick. "Oh, Danny! What happened cyber nymphets with Jerry Loring? Why did he ask me to change tutors? Did you two not get along? It seemed to me like you hit it off really well, last week." I deflated in front of his eyes. At least there was no one else in the room yet. Why did he have to bring that up? So Jerry had already asked for someone else. Was he going to fuck him, tell him he loves him, then destroy him too? I told myself, 'No, stop it. I'm over that. I don't care what he does, or who he does.'
Mr. Janke watched my face and could tell there was something heavy going on. "Um, what happened, Danny?" He asked cautiously. "Nothing. I guess he just doesn't want me anymore." I turned away from him. How melodramatic was that? But I had to get away from him. It seemed to me like, if I kept looking, he would be able to tell the whole sordid story by looking in my eyes. I went and sat at a desk in the back of the room, opened a book and stared blankly at it. I saw him staring at me, in my peripheral vision, but I wouldn't look up. About that time, three kids came into the room and started talking to him, then more filed in. I was relieved. When I went to Mr. Janke's second period, I sat in the back again. He'd be writing something out on the blackboard, and every time he turned to face the class, he'd look directly at me. I would promptly look away, or down. As I was leaving, he asked to see me after my last class, which was a free period for him. I said ok. After I ate three bites of a slimy cafeteria salisbury steak for lunch, I walked out to the commons to see if I could find Barry, and show him my new car. I wanted to show it off to somebody!
As I turned the corner of J building, I froze. Twenty feet in front of me, Jerry and Brenda were standing there, arguing. Brenda's back was to me, and Jerry was sideways at an angle, almost facing my way. If I kept going, there was no way he wouldn't see me. Maybe I could turn around and sneak back around the corner and he wouldn't notice me. But I couldn't move. I looked at his face and my heart raced. He was angry-- like the last time I saw him. I couldn't take in the words at first, even though they were loud enough to be heard for a long way. I felt like a deer in the headlights, just as the first words registered in my ears. "... don't seem to want to be with me lately! You've always got an excuse! Jerry, if you don't want to be with me anymore, just fucking say so!" She was most unhappy. She wasn't saying it, but anyone could tell what she was really thinking: 'There's someone else, isn't there?'
Other students walking by would look at them, then look away and try to act like they couldn't hear what was going on.
Jerry was avoiding her eyes, listening impatiently. He was shuffling back and forth, from foot to foot, looking around. Then he saw me, and our eyes locked. His movements ceased. The rapid succession of expressions that fought for a place in his eyes was something to see. He was one of those people who showed everything in their eyes-- if you could decipher it all. His reaction caused Brenda to turn around to see what he was looking at. She looked at my face, looked to his, and backed up two feet, looking back and forth between us. "We'll talk about this later. I gotta go." He said curtly. He walked briskly past me, glancing at me with daggers in his angry eyes. I heard his footsteps round the corner behind me. She and I just stood there, looking at each other. She gave me a curious look, then turned and walked the other way. I stood there for a minute longer, invisible, as my anonymous peers young hot nymphet walked by within inches of me in all directions, none noticing I was there. Then I wandered over to a tree and sat under it for a bit, trying to figure out how I was going to handle it if we had another face to face like that. Because every single drop of love, pain and anger had come back and washed over me like a tidal wave in the first second his eyes met mine. Was there no escaping this? What the hell was I going to do? I couldn't imagine a day when seeing him wouldn't impact me this way. I started sinking again-- but at least I didn't cry that time. After my last class, I-- for the first time-- dreaded going to see Mr. Janke. "Hi, Danny, pull up a chair." He said somewhat cheerfully, then paused as if he didn't know where to go from there. "Um... Danny, I... I'm curious, and don't want to get, personal, but..." He paused, and decided to forge ahead, "Jerry seemed very agitated when he asked to be assigned a different tutor. I just don't understand what could have happened, after the way things started with you guys. Friday, he told me how much he was enjoying working with you, then he didn't come to school Monday; and, like you, he never misses school."
I glanced up at this information, trying to picture Jerry home alone and what he was doing. Was he upset? Miserable? Was he missing me? Fat chance. "But on Tuesday, he came to me and seemed so, upset, so, well, disoriented. I asked him what the problem was, but he wouldn't talk at all." He paused and I glanced into his eyes, then up at the Romeo And Juliet quotes on the blackboard. Those fucking Capulets and Montagues. "So, can you tell me what happened? I know you liked him a lot... A whole lot."
My eyes darted to his and my mouth hung open. Was he insinuating what I thought he was insinuating? I couldn't speak. I'm sure the look on my face was idiotic, mixed with pain. "And I know he liked you a lot." He looked into my eyes and I was just frozen. "I, want you to know..." He was trying to be delicate, "Um, Danny, I think I understand how you felt about Jerry, and want you to know that I think he felt the same about you, from everything he said to me on Friday." He held my gaze and seemed to be trying to say much more with his eyes than he could say with his mouth. I blushed crimson and just about fell out of my chair. I held the edge of the desk for support. I couldn't believe my favorite teacher in the world was telling me he was aware of what Jerry and I were beginning to feel for each other last week-- and in a very positive tone of voice!
"But, obviously something happened over the weekend, and he misses one day and you miss four; not to mention you looking like death-warmed-over when you come back." I just hung my head down as far as I could let it fall. Tears were starting to build and I focused all my mental abilities on not crying-- I couldn't very well slug myself in the stomach in front of Mr. Janke. "I just... Danny, I want you to know that I care about you. You're one of my very favorite students, and you can talk to me. I, think I understand what you're feeling." My head shot up and my eyes were laced with tears. I was dumbfounded and totally in a state of shock. He kept his eyes trained on mine. I got such a sense of caring and empathy from him, but was so blown away by this conversation that I couldn't process it all. I really don't know what my facial expression was at the time. "I'm, skating on very thin ice here, Danny, but I see a lot of confusion and pain in you right now, and I suspect you have no one to talk to about everything." He looked deep in thought for a minute, then wrote on a notepaper. "Look, here's my phone number. You do understand that I'm not... That I only want to be a friendly listening ear for you. I just want to be very clear that I'm not... in the same situation as you are." He spoke in hushed tones. "But I understand how isolated you must feel, especially out here in the suburbs. So if you want someone to talk to, give me a call, anytime, Danny." I just stared into his eyes with my mouth open and tears wandering down my cheeks. It looked like my silence was making him reconsider having just told me all this-- his gaze was faltering. I was aware of what a risk he'd just taken, getting personally involved with a student, and in such a potentially explosive matter. To help me. I had to say something to let him know that he hadn't made the wrong move, "Thank you so much, Mr. Janke. Thank you so much. I... I want you to know how good it makes me feel to know you care and understand. And I want you to know I would never betray your trust." I saw the relief flow over him and felt good about that. "I really appreciate this, but I'm a little too... I'm just too messed up about this to be able to talk about it right now. Maybe later?" "Sure, Danny, anytime at all, ok?" He was so nice. I smiled at him with real gratitude, and a warm feeling in my gut. "Thank you." I stood up and leaned toward him and hugged his shoulders, which kind of surprised him, but he genuinely returned the purely platonic hug. "See ya later. Thanks." And I left. I was freaking out on how he was so easily able to spot my love and lust for Jerry, how he thought he saw it in Jerry as well, and how he was apparently totally cool with it all. I was reeling from the impact of how, in a matter of days, three adults-- all heterosexuals-- liked me, fully accepted me and wanted to help me, when I needed it most. Maybe the straight world wasn't so completely full of hate and fear as I thought it was. I had a lot to think about. The weekend was very rough for me, and the next school week wasn't much better. I only saw Jerry a few times, and on most of those occasions, he either didn't see me, or acted like he didn't. Twice we came face to face, within feet of each other. Not a word was said, and the first time he was expressionless, but the second time, he actually tossed me a little, civil smile. I don't think I managed to smile back, but I didn't cry or anything dramatic; which I felt was progress. On Wednesday, we were all forced to go to a pep rally and watch the basketball team show off. I sat up in the very back row of the gym bleachers, where all the stoners and freaks sat, and prayed Jerry would never look my way. He did, once. He was standing in line with the team, facing me. He looked right at me and I looked at him. Then he had to move with the teen nymphette pussy team and never looked my way again. That first week back, I was trying hard to think of things like schoolwork, and even college. I kept trying to keep Rachel's words in mind and picture life out in the real world. I began to think maybe I'd like to take a year off from academics and try working and maybe see if I could move into Houston. President Carter was talking about "Austerity Measures" and the sagging economy in his "fireside chats", but Houston was booming, and jobs were everywhere. There were a thousand people a week moving into the smoggy, oily boomtown. It seemed like utopia to me, the lure of anonymity, and the lure of all the possibilities, of finding others "like me." I'd heard the Montrose area of Houston referred to as the queer section many times. After talking to Rachel, it seemed like a magnet, drawing me, calling me to salvation. At night, just before I fell asleep, it was still the same thing every time: Jerry dominated all my thoughts. Yeah, I cried some, but not every time. I wasn't particularly horny most nights, but I felt like I should be, like maybe it would be a sign that I was coming out of this if I was, so I would try to fantasize and jack off. I found I couldn't fantasize about anyone else, but I couldn't develop a good fantasy about Jerry either. No matter what I got started, it would always degenerate

Ubicación:New York
Último acceso: Friday, 11 de October de 2013, 20:05  (1564 días 5 horas)