First Encounter

As the sound of the basketball pounding into the driveway filled my ears, I concentrated fully on Scott's fluid movements. I was leading 18-16 in a game of 21, and didn't want to lose this one to Scott. He'd already beaten me twice today, and I wasn't about to suffer humiliation again from a kid three years younger and six inches shorter than I. As he darted to my right, I instinctively thought he'd fake me out and go to my left and began to swivel to meet a left move. He continued to my right and blew past me as I whirled to correct my error. "Got you that time, you old fart," he crowed as he sank a five-foot jumper. The score was now eighteen-all. Muttering curses under my breath, I rebounded the ball back to him at the line. He insolently said, "For a 16-year-old, you sure move slow! Well, give up yet, old timer?" "Not yet, kid. Bring it on." Instead of trying to fake me out or drive past me, he stepped back and let fly a three-pointer. Nothing but net and I threw up my hands in disgust. Scott danced wildly all over the driveway, rubbing it in for the third time that hot summer day. I gave him a look of disgust and headed for a secluded shady grassy area near the garage where my water was waiting. Dropping my skinny 5' 6" frame to the ground, I peeled off my sweat-soaked tank top before I grabbed my water bottle from the cooler. I took a deep swig of the cold water, then poured the rest of it over me, making me gasp and shiver. Scott just stood there and stared at my chest, making me feel a little uncomfortable. Then the cordless phone rang. Scott jogged over and grabbed it from near the side door where it had been laying. "Hello, Bumars residence," he announced. "Oh, it's you, mom." I laughed, and he gave me a dirty look as he held the phone away from his ear, his mom obviously telling him off for his lack of manners. "Yeah, ok. Yeah, he's here for a bit more yet, so I'll be fine. Ok, will do. See ya. Love you too." He turned off the phone, setting it down, giving me an evil grin and trotted back. "Mom called to say Dad and her will be a bit longer and wanted to know if you'll be around for a bit yet." I considered the question and retorted, "As if I had a choice after what you told your mom!" Without any warning he jumped on me. I quickly pinned him down after a short but fierce wrestling match. There's something to be said for height and weight sometimes. I looked down as I felt something poke my leg, and saw a nice little tent. I looked at him; he smiled and had the temerity to say, "What, never seen one before?" Annoyed, I didn't answer and let him up, moving over next to him, sitting with my back resting against the garage wall. I looked at him and saw his smile fade, and he looked a little embarrassed. "It's ok," I offered. "That happens to me all the time too when I wrestle. That's one reason why we wear protective cups." He scooted a little closer, making me feel a little uncomfortable. "Josh, what's it like to be gay?" He asked with a serious expression. "Well, what's it like to have brown eyes?" "They are just brown, I didn't choose them," he replied. "Well, that's what it's like to be gay," I said as I shifted a little bit away from his closeness. He still had the tent in his shorts, I noticed. "I asked my dad again last week how someone knew if they were gay or not, he wouldn't give me an answer," he softly said. "Scott, that's something every person has to figure out for themselves. I was 12 when I figured out I liked boys better than girls," I replied in the same tone. Noticing his quizzical expression, I began explaining how I had figured out boys excited me rather than girls, how I had come out to my parents about my homosexuality. It was the first time he or I had mentioned anything about my gayness. I knew he had questions since he learned last year that I was gay during the "birds and bees" talk his dad gave him. He seemed lost in thought, so I stopped. Leaning my head back for a moment to rest, I missed his expression of comprehension and didn't notice him climb to his knees. He spoke my name so softly I automatically turned my head to look at him to catch what he was saying, and he kissed me full on the lips. In shock, I didn't even fight him. After about 10 seconds, I shoved him away and asked angrily, "What the hell did you do that for?" "I'm sorry, I just wanted to see what it felt like," he answered with his head hung down. I noticed a tear falling from his cheek, and I touched his chin and raised it up. "You're gay, aren't you?" I gently asked. He just nodded with a scared expression on his face. I gathered him into my arms and hugged him tight. "Scott, it's okay. It's nothing to be ashamed of," I continued in the same gentle tone as before. "It's certainly nothing to be afraid of." I let go of him and he looked with me with such an intense expression of love that I just sat there stunned. How could a thirteen-year-old feel such emotions? It suddenly dawned on me why he'd been hanging around so much over the last two years: he had seen me as more than just his a friend. I decided to confirm my suspicions and asked, "Scott, you really like me, more than just as a friend, right?" He went so white I thought he'd faint or something. He swallowed hard and just nodded. Suspicions confirmed. Great. Now what? "Scott, you need to find someone near your age to find out what love is. I'm a little too old for you." Such an angry expression crossed his face that I literally recoiled. He threw himself on top of me, hitting me with his fists. I tried to stop him as he kept swinging at me, but the force and wildness of his swings made it difficult. I finally grabbed his forearms and told him, "Whoa there, guy. I'm not telling you to get lost. I'm telling you I'm not in your age group, okay?" "But... I don't know anyone else who is gay!" He said that with such an expression of despair that my heart about busted in half. With more assurance than I felt I told him, "You will find someone close to your age. Just wait." When that expression of anger started crossing his face again, I hugged him tight and felt him relax. Rolling him off me, I sat up and watched him get to his feet and mutter, "I'm hungry. You want to eat something?" "Sure!" You know us teens - bottomless pits. We went into his air-conditioned house and closed the door, enjoying the cool air. It made me shiver as my sweat cooled me off quickly. Mrs. Bumars didn't like her carpets dirtied up, so we had to take off our shoes. He quickly shed his but I took more time, having problems untying one. When I stood up, Scott pushed me against the door and planted such a fierce lip-lock on me that I couldn't breathe. Disengaging him from me I demanded, "Scott! What in the world are you doing? Don't you remember what I said outside?" He blushed slightly and then pulled my shorts down to my knees. He stood there staring at my dick. I felt myself getting hard and tried to recover my shorts, but he grabbed my dick and started stroking it gently. I shoved him away from me, pulled my shorts up and said in an embarrassed growl, "Just what do you think you are doing? Kissing me twice, attacking me like I'm some kind of toy to play with?" I stopped my tirade when I saw tears begin to flow freely down his cheeks. "I just wanted to see what you looked like," he softly murmured. I watched the tears fall for a moment as I contemplated my options. Compassion won out so I hugged him, wondering what I would do with this little guy. I felt something moving between us, and I looked down to see him stroking me through my tented shorts. Sighing, I looked at him, and I asked, "Ok, what do you want me to do?" "I want to see what you look like hard. I've been dreaming about it for over a year," he shyly answered. My gasp of surprise must have been audible, and he continued, "Please?" The way he begged me so gently with tears in his eyes, I couldn't refuse. I nodded and pulled the front of my shorts down. He took my 5 1/2 incher in his hand and started stroking it slowly. After a few moments, I suggested to Scott, "shouldn't we go someplace a little more private if you are going to be doing that?" He blushed such a deep shade of red through his freckled tan I thought he'd start a fire. Giving me a shy smile, he grabbed my hand and led me to his bedroom. Once there we both stripped off everything, and I let him touch me, examining me like he was some kind of doctor. Once he was satisfied with his exploration, he asked, "Will you please touch me?" Oh, bloody hell. Exploring was one thing; sex was another. Looking into his eyes, I came to a decision. I asked seriously, "Are you sure this is what you want?" He nodded yes then put his head down like he was ashamed. Grasping his head in my hands and gently lifting it up towards me, I told him, "Never be ashamed to ask someone else to touch you if they consent and you want it. Never EVER force yourself on someone like you did on me in the kitchen, ever again. It's wrong. Ask first, it's safer, okay?" He looked at me and nodded his agreement, and for the first time, I noticed how brown his eyes were, how perfect they looked and how they matched with his brown-reddish hair. Swallowing nervously, I bent down slightly and kissed him. He shivered for a minute, keeping his eyes closed. "I've been waiting a long time for you to do that to me," he softly said. I just reached down and touched his extremely erect member, stroking it softly. He was about 3 inches, I'd judged. Not bad for a 5-foot 13-year-old who just started puberty. Continuing to stroke him as an expression of pure pleasure formed on his face, I decided if I had gone this far with him, I might as well go further. I dropped to my knees, and began to slowly swirl my tongue softly over his head, gently teasing him, bringing a moan of pleasure and then a fascinated look down at me. "What are you doing, oral sex?" He asked. I grinned and said, "Relax and enjoy it. I'll teach you about it." I resumed slowly running my tongue around his little head, feeling it swell a bit, then moving down along his shaft, cupping his small silky balls in my hand and gently massaging them. He started trembling a bit, so I looked up. His head was thrown back, his mouth open, so I went back to work and moved one of my hands up to one of his nipples and started rubbing gently. He moaned involuntarily and I decided that was enough teasing him and started working on his soon-to-be manhood, stroking it with my mouth, holding my tongue against the bottom of his wonderful-tasting dick and massaging his shrinking balls. I sensed a faint taste of pre-cum. I knew he would be blowing within a few months and decided to bring him to orgasm. I switched to his other nipple and took his dick into my hand and jacked as fast as I could. He let out a loud gasp and shuddered, obviously in the throes of orgasm. I continued for a minute more, and when his body started relaxing, I slowed down, and looked up at him. He just stood there open mouthed, trying to get air back into his body. "Well, now you know what it's like a bit," I mischievously said. "I never felt it that good before when I was jacking off dreaming about you," he slowly stated, trying to recover from the mind-blowing feelings he just experienced. "I just thought it would feel the same way." I smiled at him and stood up, hugging him to me tightly. He started stroking me once again. What was it with this kid and my dick? I watched as he dropped to his knees. He was nervous as he slowly took my cock into his mouth. He tried to do the same thing I did to him, but it was pretty clear he would need some practice, so I just let him try to do whatever he wanted while I slowly built up to an explosion. "Scott, you might want to get some paper towels or rags, this is gonna be a little messy," I suggested. He took a look at me, not understanding at first, and then his eyes slowly got bigger with comprehension. He scooted his cute little ass out of the room and came back in a minute later with a whole wad of paper towels. I chuckled and laid down on his bed, spread out the paper towels a bit and told him to go ahead, do what he wanted to do, but when I told him to move, he was to step back. I didn't want his first experience with cum to be a shock. He nodded his understanding and started stroking me, gradually increasing the speed. That brought a moan out of me, and I heard him giggling. I started chuckling, and before long, we were both laughing in enjoyment. That killer smile of his filled my vision as he kissed me while continuing to whack me off. All of a sudden, it was "Move, Scott!" He jumped back as I started furiously beating and blew all over the towels. Man, I never had that much cum all over the place before. The waves of pleasure emanating from my dick were so intense, I thought I would pass out. When I was done, Scott looked at me in awe. I had never ever had pleasure that intense before. Never. "Want to try a taste of cum?" I said just before I put a finger-full into my mouth. He looked more than a little nervous, the poor kid. I motioned him closer, took some juice and then offered my finger to him. "You don't have to if you don't want," I said. "It doesn't taste bad and won't make you sick." He just gulped and went so white his freckles stood out. I honestly thought he'd refuse, which was fine with me. He timidly grabbed my finger and slowly licked a little bit off and swallowed. He got such a surprised look on his face I just laughed. He took some off the paper towel and licked it down and grinned, "Not bad. A little salty, but it tastes... I don't know. Good somehow. Is that normal for guys to uh.. taste, I mean." I began folding up the paper towels while smiling and answering, "yes, it is. Won't be long before you have your own to taste." I got up, and he took a closer look at my dick and announced, "it's still leaking." "Of course it is," I replied as I began getting dressed. "It'll do that for awhile, but it'll stop soon. That's normal." He walked over and gave me such a bone-popping hug I thought he'd so some damage to both of us. "Come on, let's get dressed and relax," I said as I left the room and him. He followed me in all of 20 seconds. Damn, he was fast. He went to the fridge, grabbed two cokes, and padded barefoot and shirtless into the living room, his shorts still tented. Looking at them I commented, "what, not enough for you yet?" He giggled and sat in my lap. We sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking our cokes and enjoying the nearness of our bodies. "How long have you been itching to get into my pants?" I asked him. "About a year and half," he admitted, "right after I started jacking off. It was always about you, I dunno why." That made me pause and think. "Why me?" "I liked the way you looked and the way you treated me. You never looked down on me and always treated me like I was your age." He shrugged and continued, "I dunno. I just like you." Well, that threw a whole new monkey wrench into things. What was it he was feeling? Was it love or lust, or just plain old-fashioned boyish curiosity? "Scott, I have a question for you." "What?" He eagerly inquired. "If I was to leave today, and move away, and you never saw me again, how would you feel?" I asked him, watching his face closely. I saw panic begin rising in his face and he started crying softly. Damn. He'd fallen for me. Hard. "You aren't, are you?" He sobbed. "No, I'm not. I'm trying to see what you are feeling, I'm sorry, babe. Forgive me," I answered. Then it hit me. I had called him Babe! What the hell? My expression must have mirrored his and he shot right out of my lap, staring at me in shock. "What did you call me?" In a quavering, breaking voice. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry, Scott. I didn't mean to..." I answered. I tried to keep the confusion out of my voice but failed, and it must have shown. "I... I... don't know what to say Josh," he stammered. "It's... the first time someone has called me that." I was totally confused by then. I needed to get out of there before I went nuts. "Scott, I need to go home and calm down. I'm confused. But I'll be back ok?" In a small voice, "Ok." I ran to the kitchen and started to put my shoes on. I heard Scott call my name, "Josh?" "Yeah?" "I love you." That tore my heart in half. I didn't even bother putting on my other shoe and ran out of the door, ignoring his crying. I found the door to my house and blindly groped my way into my bedroom where I collapsed onto my bed and broke down crying. What the hell had I done? What had I gotten him and myself into? What did I feel for him, and why?