Arthur's Tale

Chapter 1
My name’s Arthur Derringer. Most people call me Artie. Then joke because I’m an artist. My story starts a long time ago. Along time ago because I just turned forty today. I don’t like my birthdays, but that’s part of the story. Let me tell you about it.
I used to think my mom and dad hung the moon. I loved my home, my school, my friends, and my parents. Until the day I turned fifteen. My best friend, Manny, Manuel Cortez (as in from Spain, not Mexico, he was very proud of that). Anyway, Manny was spending the night. A sleep over. One of hundreds. We’d been best friends since I could remember. Manny had always been in my life, same as my parents, same as my annoying little sister, Patsy, same as my protective older brother, Paul. Constants in my life, all of them. I would say that Manny was like having another brother, but there was more to it than that.
I was excited that day. Mom had gone all out and fixed my favorite things for dinner, spaghetti and meatballs smothered in Parmesan cheese, with garlic bread. And a homemade birthday cake. White cake with strawberry icing. It was much later I remembered my dad making a joke about me liking a girly desert. At least I had thought it a joke at the time.
My birthday had been during a school day, so I’d had many well wishes and happy birthdays during the day, both from friends and teachers. A couple of cards, and one gift from my science teacher, Mr. Conroy. I’d thought it unusual to get a gift from a teacher, but Mr. Conroy was always so nice to me. Called me Artie babe. I didn’t think anything of it. Should have. But hind sight and all that…. Mr. Shoray, my art teacher always frowned at me when he heard me laughing at Mr. Conroy’s nickname for me. Had I realized, I would have seen that Mr. Conroy’s attentions were inappropriate. But I didn’t. I liked his affections. Should have known better.
Mr. Shoray, on the other hand, was just as interested in me, but for artistic reasons. The man’s blue eyes shown every time I turned in an assignment. I think he kept them all. Especially my paintings. I could bet, if I ever looked the man up now, he’d be able to say ‘I knew him when…’. I was easily making straight A’s in his class. I was making straight A’s in Mr. Conroy’s class too, even when I didn’t understand most of the work. Mr. Conroy offered to tutor me about half way through the school year. That’s when I learned to like his affections more. Mr. Conroy made me feel special. Mr. Conroy made me feel a lot of things.
Manny didn’t like Mr. Conroy. We were in science together. Manny would frown and try to make me leave whenever Mr. Conroy wanted me to stay after class. He was jealous, but that revelation didn’t come to me until later. Again, hindsight. I’d hug Manny, tell him to go on, that I would be along after my tutoring. I didn’t tell Manny that Mr. Conroy’s tutoring had nothing to do with science. Mr. Conroy told me that our affections were for us only, that others would not understand. Manny certainly didn’t, even if he didn’t know what was really going on. I kept quiet. I believed Mr. Conroy. Stupid, I know.
I suppose part of the reason I kept silent was because affection in my house was nonexistent. There were no hugs or kisses. No casual touches. I didn’t think badly of this, it was just the way I grew up. But when Mr. Conroy touched me, it was if I had been starved and didn’t know it. I have to explain here. Mr. Conroy was different. He liked boys…obviously. He was the first one to show me that I liked boys too. I used to think it was because my little sister annoyed me so much. That was why I didn’t like girls. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Patsy had nothing to do with it. And ‘gay’? That wasn’t even in my lexicon at the time. Suppose I lived a pretty sheltered life.
My fifteenth birthday was the first day Mr. Conroy made me feel uncomfortable. What he wanted to do…well, I didn’t. It was my first time thinking something was wrong. Honestly?? What Mr. Conroy wanted to do, I wanted to do with Manny. It was like getting hit with a brick. I loved Manny. I didn’t love Mr. Conroy. And that was the gist. Affection…touching…feeling things…that was one thing. Love…physical love…that was a whole other can of worms. And something I wasn’t willing to do or give up for anyone but Manny. Even if Manny didn’t like boys. I didn’t know. Manny seemed to like me, but we were best friends. Manny seemed to like girls just fine too. I tried not to think about that too much.
Mr. Conroy didn’t force me. I think I remember him whining, which I thought was pretty bad of an adult, much less a teacher, to do. I never tutored with Mr. Conroy after that. I remember Manny being very happy about it. Well, until that night.
Manny’s dad wouldn’t let him come over for dinner. That wasn’t anything unusual. Manny’s house was like mine. The family ate together, period. The first time Paul missed a meal, was the first time I realized my dad had a temper. I guess you could say all three of us were pretty biddable children. Dad ruled the house and none of us ever questioned that. Paul had to stay late after football practice. He was a senior, eighteen, and was working for a football scholarship. That was a couple of days before my birthday. I remember mom shuttling me and Patsy up the stairs when dad started yelling. Paul yelled back. I was astonished. Paul never yelled at our dad. The next day, Paul was gone. As in gone. No clothes, no anything. He came by my junior high after classes. Gave me a phone number, said he was staying with his girlfriend’s family and if I ever needed anything to call him. I hugged him. To my surprise, he hugged me back…hard.
I didn’t tell mom and dad that I’d seen Paul. Seemed wrong to do so. After my birthday? I was glad I didn’t. Especially listening to dad rant and rave that Paul better never come back if he knew what was good for him. I thought it funny at the time. All that fuss and anger over missing one meal? I kept my mouth shut though.
My birthday was perfect. I was happy, barring Mr. Conroy’s advances. Manny showed up in time for the cake. Sang happy birthday with my family. I might have stared at Manny a little too long. I don’t remember. Something tipped dad off because it was all Manny and I could do to get rid of him. Dad wanted to watch TV with us. Play board games with us. Even play video games with us in my room. Manny kept giving me puzzled looks. What was I supposed to say? My dad had never done any of that before. How was I supposed to explain something like that?
It got late, and dad finally went to bed. He had work tomorrow. On a Saturday. Dad was a foreman in construction. And where we live, any sunny day was considered a work day. It rained a lot. Dad had to work whenever it wasn’t raining. Manny and I took a shower together. It was the first time I saw my best friend completely naked. A few peeks when he peed, or seeing him change clothes didn’t count. Manny had the kind of body I wished I had. He was tall, almost six feet. Had black hair that was shiny and thick, but soft. His eyes were almost as dark. Not black really, but a very dark brown. If I got close enough to him, I could see little gold flecks in them. He had a strong jaw and was already shaving. He didn’t have any hair on his chest. That didn’t start until under his belly button, then it got thick around his penis. He was muscular. Manny played baseball . Manny lifted weights too. I’d watched him plenty of times at the school gym. My fingers itched. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to paint and sketch him. He was that beautiful to me.
I could tell he was watching me as well, staring. I blushed. And my blushes showed, big time. I had pale skin compared to his bronze color. I was only 5’7”. Seems I remember my dad saying Patsy was probably going to be taller than me. I took after my mom. She’s tiny. Paul, like dad, was 6’3” and huge. If that yelling they’d done had ever turned to blows, they would have been pretty well matched. I would have been a goner. I have the same light blond hair as the rest of my family. Almost white, really. I think mine is probably the lightest, and longest. Even longer than Patsy’s. She plays girls soccer and doesn’t like it getting in her way. I am the only one that ended up with mom’s gray eyes. Patsy and Paul both have dad’s blue eyes. Like I said, I took after my mom. I don’t have any muscles. No reason to. My favorite thing to do was a sitting down occupation. I like to paint…to draw. And the only other hobby I had was reading. Not very athletic things, I know, but there it is.
I was soaping up, trying not to stare at Manny when I felt him touch me. It was a light touch, would have tickled if I hadn’t been so shocked. I opened my eyes to look at him. He had this smile on his face. One I’d thought I’d seen a thousand times, but wasn’t. I didn’t move. Manny was doing something I had wanted him to do for a long time. He moved closer to me. The feeling I got at the heat coming from him was the same as the feeling I got when Mr. Conroy touched me. But not. It was more…a whole lot more. Manny wasn’t looking at me in the eye. His eyes were following his hand. His light fingertips on my side, changed to his whole palm as it slid around and he explored. My entire body was tingling from the caress and I sucked in a breath. Then almost choked on water and soap bubbles. Manny laughed, then grabbed me, hugged me and thumped me on the back. It wasn’t helping. Not when our wet, slick, naked bodies were now pressed together from shoulders to knees. At that, I couldn’t breathe at all. Full frontal body hug, naked? Yea, no breathing.
Manny suddenly quit laughing and held very still. Like he was waiting for something. For what, I never knew. I was in his arms. I was in his arms and trying to remember how to breath. My body was more than tingling now. Blood was rushing away from my brain. It took a lot for me to figure out it was rushing somewhere else. Seems my brain wasn’t working very well. But trying to breath became less of a priority when Manny leaned back, then leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. I’d kissed before. Well, been kissed. By Mr. Conroy. So it wasn’t that new. But with Manny it was like I’d never even been kissed. I gasped at the sensation and Manny’s tongue invaded my mouth. Ok, now that was new. Not something Mr. Conroy had ever done. My first thought was ‘ew’, but that thought didn’t last but a second. Manny’s tongue was warm and gentle. He prodded every corner of my mouth and I vaguely wished I hadn’t eaten garlic bread. Would he be disgusted? Did I have bad breath? Manny didn’t seem to mind, because he didn’t stop.
Now, I know a few things about sexual encounters. I took Sex Education last year, after all. But Sex Ed does not prepare you for the actual feelings that the actions create. And Mr. Conroy never created such feelings in me. Not to mention, Sex Education never said anything about what happens between two boys. Manny? Manny was making my whole body…sing. Ok, artist in me. Anyway, Manny’s kiss was overwhelming. I could probably bet that Manny’s arms around me were the only thing keeping me standing when I felt my knees wobble and grow weak. Sheesh! And Manny was thorough. I don’t think there was a corner of my mouth he didn’t touch, explore. But when he nipped my lower lip, I groaned. Groaned? Why would someone groan from being bitten? Can’t explain that. I didn’t even have control over it. It just happened. I felt Manny chuckle against our chests, like he knew I liked that, even if I wasn’t sure.
I was the one standing under the stream of water from the showerhead when the water turned cold and I shivered. Manny let go of me and I swayed, but he kept one arm around my waist while he leaned over to turn the taps off. He helped me out of the tub. It was a good thing too, or I would have fallen flat on my face. I was that shaky. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. I think I was disappointed. It covered him. He then grabbed another and started rubbing me dry. It was nice. Caring. Nurturing. Something I hadn’t felt in years. Almost made me sleepy, but my heart was racing too fast from the implications.
Luckily, I have a bathroom off my room, to myself. Well, to myself now that Paul was gone. We shared it since it sat between our rooms. Like the Brady Bunch. Manny walked us back into my room, one towel around his waist, one towel over my shoulders, which, of course, didn’t cover any of my male anatomy. Which suited Manny just fine as he stared. I wasn’t sure how I felt about his gaze, especially since the shower kiss had hardened me. I wasn’t hanging down like usual. My penis was standing straight up against my stomach. And throbbing. It wasn’t new. Mr. Conroy had made my penis throb plenty of times. What I didn’t know until later, was there was a way to stop it from throbbing. That was something Mr. Conroy never did. He always left me hard and throbbing and my penis had to go down on its own. That always took a while too. Now I’m sure you’re thinking, ‘Fifteen? Never masturbated?’ Well, no, I never did. It never occurred to me to play with myself. Stupid, naive, I’ll give you that. Maybe it was a new ‘first find out you like boys’ thing, or maybe because cultivating any kind of libido in my house would have been insane. I don’t know, I just never did it. So, of course, I wasn’t prepared. But Manny didn’t seem to mind.
Manny’s eyes on me made me feel shy. I’d never been shy with Manny. He was my best friend. Always had been. I took a deep breath when he turned away from me to lock the door. I wasn’t sure what a good idea that was. My parents didn’t like locked doors. But Manny and I were naked in my room, and it looked like Manny had ideas, so I didn’t say anything. He dropped the towel before he turned back towards me and I got a great look at his butt. Now, I’d already figured out I like boys, but the sight of Manny’s bottom made me feel things I had never felt before. Excitement didn’t even cover it. But when Manny turned around, I sucked my breath in, in awe. Manny was exquisite and as hard as me. His penis looked different than mine, and I caught myself looking down and then back, like I was comparing them. Which I was.
Manny’s was darker than mine, and the head looked different. I would find out later it was because Manny was cut and I was not. But that wasn’t something that mattered at that moment. As I stared, a tiny bead of clear liquid oozed from the end of Manny’s penis. Fascinated, I felt my mouth water. Sheesh! What the heck? I had the overwhelming urge to taste Manny and that had certainly never happened with Mr. Conroy. Except for kissing, my lips never touched any part of my science teacher. I was beginning to think that what happened between me and Mr. Conroy was nothing. My hand on his penis mostly, some kissing. That was it. I had refused anything more. I guess I thought that gave me more experience than Manny. I had touched another man’s penis. But Manny was older than me. Only by five months, but still older. Did he have experience I didn’t? I thought I knew my friend better than anyone, but in this? I had no clue.
Manny walked towards me, tossing his towel towards the open bathroom door. He slid my towel off me and threw it as well. I shivered again, but it wasn’t from cold. Manny pressed up against me again, though he wasn’t hugging me. His much larger body was pushing me towards my bed. When the back of my knees hit the mattress, I lost my balance. Instinctively, I reached out to stop myself from falling and Manny grabbed my arms, easing me to the soft mattress, his warm body covering mine. He was so close, I could see those gold flecks in his brown eyes. He closed them and leaned down so his face was flush with mine, his lips near my ear. He whispered then. “I want to love you.” Ok, well, what was I to say to that? Sure, go right ahead? What took you so long? Come and get it, big boy? All I said was, “Ok.” But apparently, that was all Manny needed to hear.
I felt Manny pushing me up the bed so our legs were not hanging off the end. I tried to help and almost nailed him in the groin with my knee. Thank goodness I didn’t after what happened later. With a lot of struggling, Manny landing kisses all over my neck and shoulders, we managed to make it up the bed and under the covers. I felt immediately better that we weren’t so exposed. The room wasn’t cold, that wasn’t my problem. It was the loaming lock on my door, and the possible consequences if my mom or dad noticed, that bothered me. Manny didn’t seem to be so bothered. His kisses were getting more urgent and my body was responding like I’d never felt before. When Manny guided my hand to his penis, I felt the funniest fluttering in my stomach. It was different than the nervous fluttering when Mr. Conroy had done the same. This was the kind of fluttering I would get on Christmas morning. Or when my family went to the amusement park and I got to ride the big rollercoaster for the first time.
I held my long thin fingers around it, enjoying the feeling of the silky skin and warmth, the hardness of it. Manny moved his hips, which slid that hardness through my hand. When he pulled back, I felt the stickiness of that liquid that had come from the end of it. That liquid coated my palm and his penis, making it slick. “Squeeze.” I heard Manny whisper, so I tightened my grip and got a moan from Manny for my effort. In all the time we’d known each other, I’d never heard Manny moan, and the sound that came from him was the most erotic thing I’d ever heard. If I knew what erotic meant then, like I know now. I had been concentrating on Manny so hard, that it was a shock to realize he was stroking my penis at the same time. I hadn’t even noticed until I felt my own hips undulating back and forth. And that sensation wasn’t limited to my penis. I could feel it everywhere, from the tingling under my hair, to my toes wanting to curl. And all over in between. I’d never felt anything like it.
Manny’s breath had become harsh, and he moved my hand away from him. At first, I thought maybe I’d done something wrong, but he said “Don’t want to come yet.” Which meant nothing to me. But, he didn’t act upset, so I decided not to show my ignorance and ask. Manny’s hand started moving faster, which made my hips move faster. It felt as if I were standing on a skyscraper, right on the edge, and only Manny could let me fall, and yet catch me too. It was very disorientating, but I wouldn’t have stopped it. Too interested in what would happen. Manny’s kisses had never stopped, but were different now. He was exploring my skin, his lips traveling. When he reached one of my nipples, I felt him bite it. I had to bite my own lip to keep from squealing. I squirmed when he did it again. He laughed and looked up at me, his brown eyes smiling too. I just smiled back. Was I supposed to admit I liked it? Maybe I didn’t need to when Manny moved to do it to my other nipple.
When his mouth reached my hip, he used his free hand to hold me still. My body didn’t want to hold still, so I clenched my teeth, willing my muscles to freeze. Manny sucked on the tender skin there, hard enough that I was sure I was going to have a bruise. Hickeys were not in my vocabulary back then. But I ended up with a spectacular one. Manny had marked me. Again, something I didn’t know about when it happened. It warms my heart, though, when I think back on it. Naive as I was, I had no idea that Manny was going to do what he did next. Manny’s hand stroked down on my penis and pulled the foreskin back. Then the exposed head was enveloped in hot, wet suction. I had to grab my pillow and cram it over my face to stifle my yell of surprise. My hips shot upward and Manny had to force them back to the bed. Something was changing as Manny sucked on my penis like it was a fudgesicle. The tingling in my body zeroed in on my groin. But it wasn’t tingling anymore. It felt more like I had been hit with lightening. Lightening that didn’t hurt. My hips refused to stay still, thrusting upwards on instinct. Manny let them, which pushed my penis deep inside his mouth. I still had my head covered with my pillow, too afraid to move it in case I made any more noises. And I was making noises. Whimpers. A lot of them. I almost sounded like the kitten my sister had. A mewing sort of sound. Something I’d never heard from my lips before.
Manny’s mouth felt wonderful. I never knew anything could feel so good. But he surprised the crap out of me when he started stroking my nuts and the skin behind them. When he reached my butthole, I jumped. It scared me that he was touching me there. But my fear didn’t last long. It just felt too good. Manny paused for a second and I finally moved my pillow to look down at him. He’d moved the blanket, so that it only covered him from the waist down. I was covered only by his body. He was sweating, so I figured that’s why he had removed it. He grabbed something, but in the dimness, I couldn’t tell what it was. Not until his fingers went back to stroking the skin behind my nuts. Oil. And from the scent that drifted to me, baby oil. It was warm, like he’d microwaved the bottle or something.  But when he slipped a finger into my butthole, the pillow was back over my face, muffling the cry that escaped me. I would say the sensation of Manny’s finger inside me was uncomfortable, but it wasn’t. When he added another, I wanted to think it felt as if I had to take a bowel movement, but it didn’t. He moved them gently, in and out, and around. When he pushed them in deeper and curled his knuckles, I thought I was going to explode right then and there. He’d hit something. Something that made my body feel as if it were on fire.
His mouth was back on my penis, sucking hard, his free hand squeezing my nuts, his other adding a third finger to my butthole. To this day I would not have been able to describe how that felt. The stimulation was more than I was capable of coherently understanding. And it was Manny making me feel all this. That he would do that to me, for me…with me, was more than I could take. My nuts began to feel hard and tight, my penis, unbelievably, grew thicker. Manny hit that spot inside me again and I choked out his name as I had my very first orgasm. My body shuddered violently, and if it hadn’t felt so good, I would have thought I was having a seizure. It lasted for hours, or felt like it, though it was probably only a few minutes. Manny was still sucking on my penis, but gently, with a lot of licking. He’d pulled his fingers from me, but I don’t remember when. I squirmed, the skin of my penis feeling sensitive, like a sunburn and Manny’s tongue suddenly felt as rough as a cat’s. I almost laughed when he kissed the end of it, but then he was crawling up my body. He carefully laid his full weight on me, moved the pillow from my face with a chuckle and kissed me again. There was a taste I didn’t recognize, but didn’t mind. I wouldn’t know, until I’d gain more experience, that I was tasting my own semen on Manny’s tongue.
Manny whispered in my ear again. “Let me make love to you.” Well, I knew what making love was. It was sex. I didn’t know I’d already had oral sex with Manny. Oral sex was not taught in Sex Ed, just missionary between a man and a woman, anatomy and baby stuff. So Manny asking that made my mind go blank, with nothing to reference to. “How?” Was what came out and I blushed at my ignorance. Manny nuzzled my neck and whispered “I’ll show you. Let me inside your body.” Manny was rubbing his, still very hard, penis between my legs, against the underside of my balls. My penis wasn’t hard any more, but kept twitching. That same twitching it always did whenever I saw Manny. I almost snorted, though. He’d already been inside my body…with his fingers. Then the light bulb went on and I forgot how to breathe again. What I envisioned, Manny’s hard penis inside my body, my butthole, made the butterflies in my stomach go wild. “How?” I blurted out again. Manny didn’t say anything, just slid off to lay beside me. He sat up and grabbed the blanket to cover us, then gently pushed me onto my stomach.
My heart felt as if it were going to beat right out of my chest and the only thing holding it in was the mattress under me. Manny used his strong hands to push my legs wide apart. I had my pillow crunched under my head, holding on for dear life. Manny grabbed two out of the three left, pulled my hips up with his arm and pushed the pillows under me, giving my penis a possessive caress, before letting my body down again. I learned it was a possessive touch later, from a different lover. With my butt up in the air, Manny crouched behind me on his knees between my legs, I felt him spread my butt cheeks. I couldn’t twist around to see what he was doing, and wasn’t sure I wanted to. This was scary, yet exhilarating at the same time.
I felt something bump my butthole. I knew it wasn’t Manny’s fingers, so it had to be his penis. The sensation was unique, even from his previous invasion. As Manny pushed, invasion became all too real. Invasion…intrusion…pain. My whole body tensed and I was panting. It burned and I felt a white hot jab of pain that turned into a fullness sensation. A fullness sensation that was growing. My butthole throbbed in time to my heart beat and I felt as if I’d passed a particularly hard and large turd. Ok, not very sexy or romantic, but really, give me a break. It was my first time and I was a kid. Manny was rubbing my back, like he knew it was hurting me. As he continued to sooth, I felt my body finally relax. The fullness didn’t go away, but the burning subsided enough that I wasn’t worried about it anymore. I could feel Manny still pushing against me, then suddenly felt his pubic hair on my butt cheeks and his nuts against my own. He laid his large body on mine so that we were connected from shoulders to feet, Manny’s penis buried all the way inside me.  I think I cried then. Not from pain, because that was going away…fast. But from overwhelming love for my best friend. He stayed still, absorbing the sensations, just as I was.
“You ok?” He asked me. I could only nod, unable at the moment to voice what I was feeling. Manny kissed my neck as he pulled almost out. The pain didn’t return as I expected it to. The fullness went away, but came back full force when Manny thrust back in. I grunted at the sensation, but pleasure was starting to seep in with the fullness. I was surprised at the smooth, slick way in which Manny’s penis moved within me. Then remembered the baby oil. He must have coated his penis with it. The consideration made my eyes sting again. Not long after that first penetration, when Manny thrust in, I arched my back, shoving my butt into him. When he pulled away, I thrust into the pillows under me. The rhythm felt old and new at the same time. I felt my own penis grow again and the pillow under me grew wet. But when Manny shifted slightly and thrust in, he hit that spot within my body that set it on fire again. “Manny!” I cried out, then buried my face in my pillow. My cry must have done something to Manny though, because his thrusts became harder, faster and deeper. Lightening, again, was coursing through my nerves. Especially as Manny’s penis kept rubbing over that spot inside me.
Manny’s face was pressed against the side of my neck and I could hear him gasping. He nuzzled occasionally between thrusts and once nipped my earlobe. When his rhythm increased, I felt his hands run from my shoulders to my hands and he intertwined our fingers. He pulled my arms out as he braced himself up so he could push deeper inside me, effectively holding me trapped by his larger body as he continued to thrust into me. I tightened my fingers, holding him tight, anchoring me since I felt as if I was going to fly away. That feeling of being on the edge of a skyscraper invaded my senses again and a moan escaped me. Suddenly, Manny’s rhythm faltered and when I tightened my butt cheeks, thrusting my own penis into the pillow, he thrust forward at the same time. He groaned my name, then whispered. “Don’t move…please.” My penis exploded at the words, my channel, in which Manny was buried constricted and rippled and Manny ground his groin hard against me, driving himself so deep that I thought he would become part of me and held himself tightly against my body. I felt a warm wet spot grow under me as my penis throbbed over and over. I had one split second of humiliation, thinking I had peed my bed. But that thought was wiped out by the sensations happening inside my body where Manny’s was connected to me. Manny’s penis thickened and pulsed and a hot sensation, like moving lava, filled my insides. Manny whimpered, then gave a few more fast, hard jabs against my butt. Kind of like when you shake your penis when you are done peeing. Obviously, Manny was done with something. I just didn’t know he’d climaxed inside my body and those last thrusts were him milking himself for the last few drops of semen in aftershocks of pleasure. All that was beyond my scope of understanding and experience.
I could have stayed like that forever, our bodies connected, our breaths rasping, our hearts pounding as one. Manny lowered his sweat soaked body to mine. He let go of my hands and pushed his under my shoulders, hugging me, holding me to him. “I love you.” He whispered in my ear and my heart swelled, tears leaked from my eyes. “I love you too.” I answered him, meaning every word. A while later, Manny carefully pulled his penis from me. It made me wince, but was over quickly. He laid down on his side next to me and pulled me onto mine, so that his body was curled around me. It was pleasant, being held so tightly, protected. I wasn’t sure what to do with the pillow that was all wet and didn’t know how to ask about it. I finally pulled it from under us and tossed it on the floor. Manny chuckled. Like he knew why. Maybe he did. I was suddenly exhausted, my eyelids heavy. But I couldn’t stop thinking about what Manny and I had just done. My best friend had made love to me. As…men…make love. It was beyond anything I had ever imagined. And a whole lot better than sex education class or the bragging some of the boys at school did about girls. “Happy birthday, Artie” I heard Manny murmur and I smiled. He’d just given me the best gift I could have ever wanted.
Chapter 2
I must have fallen asleep at some point, because what woke me up was the pounding on my door. And my dad’s voice. Oh God!  His words were quite clear through the wood, his booming voice condemning my locked door. Before either I or Manny could think to get up and dressed, my dad had the door open, a screwdriver in his hand. I remember being so terrified, that I was frozen where I was. Manny had started to get up, realized he was naked and froze as well. I didn’t turn to look, but could bet Manny was staring at my dad, just as terrified as I was. Dad’s voice turned to a snarl of rage when he saw me and Manny. I watched his pale skin turn ruddy. I’d never seen him look like that. I could feel Manny trembling behind me. I wanted to comfort him, but was still frozen in fear.
Now, my dad, like I said before, is a big man. But he can move fast. He was across the floor in like three steps. Manny isn’t small, but dad had grabbed his arm and yanked him from my bed so forcibly that Manny hit the wall near the open door. I got a glimpse of Manny’s shocked face right before my dad yelled for him to get out. Manny just stood there. What did you expect? He was naked. My dad apparently didn’t give it another thought as he turned on me. I was shaking and clutching the blanket to me. Dad grabbed it and pulled so hard I almost fell off the bed. He threw it, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Manny grab it and wrap it around his own body and high tail it out the bedroom door. I couldn’t blame him. My dad looked like a wild man. I would have run too, if I could have.
I didn’t have time to worry about it, because right then, my dad back fisted me across the face so hard that my mouth was instantly filled with blood. I went to spit it out, but my dad had grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. His face was inches from mine and I didn’t want to spit the blood on him. “You sick, sick thing!” My dad snarled at me, spittle flying from his mouth. I didn’t know what to think, the pain in my cheek and jaw was making my eyes blurry. I don’t think I was crying, but I might have been. It didn’t matter because dad was dragging me from the bed by my hair. He slammed me against the wall hard enough to knock the wind out of me. I started to slide down, but he slammed his foot into my butt, so I struggled to stay standing. I heard a whoosh of sound and realized too late that it was my dad’s belt leaving the loops of his trousers.
I thought the pain from my dad hitting me was the worst I’d ever felt. I was wrong. When the leather belt first lashed across my bare butt, buckle side against skin, I screamed. I thought I screamed again, but it wasn’t me. It was Patsy. My dad pounding on the door must have woke her. I never saw her grab his arm to stop him from hitting me again, but she must have because I heard her grunt when she hit the floor, after dad shook her off. Then I didn’t notice anything after that as my dad rained lash after lash across my back, butt and thighs, cussing the entire time and telling me how sick and perverted I was, my screams echoing in my ears. After the first three, I couldn’t stand anymore and fell to the floor. It never stopped dad. I’m guessing his arm got tired after a while, because the belt was replaced with his foot to my ribs, over and over. When I curled up, trying to protect myself as best I could, my hair was grabbed again and dad punched me across the face a second time, my head unable to snap to the side in his tight grip. I heard something crack, but was in too much pain to figure it out. He literally tossed my head down and my battered cheek connected to the hardwood floor, splitting the skin. I felt the warm wetness of blood under it, but didn’t move. I couldn’t because I lost consciousness after that.
Now, being out of it, I don’t know what happened after that. I woke up in so much pain that I wanted to vomit. But nothing was in my stomach, so I just retched ineffectually. I was still lying on my floor in my bedroom, the blood on my cheek and mouth dried, though the puddle under my face was still wet and sticky. And I could still feel blood running down my side from the cuts the belt and buckle had made. That just told me I hadn’t been unconscious for long. Patsy was sitting near me by the, now, closed door. She was crying and rocking, the phone in her tightly clutched hands. You’d think I was dead the way she was carrying on. But I wasn’t. I wish I was. When I gagged, her blue eyes rounded and she scooted a little closer to me. “Artie.” She whispered. I couldn’t get my jaw to work. Probably because it was broken. Along with three ribs, my cheek bone and multiple cuts and lacerations from my dad’s belt. I was to find out about all that later, after my sister called the police. And I spent a week in the hospital.
You see why I don’t like birthdays? That was the first one that truly sucked. My father was convicted of assault with the intent to kill. It was quite the media affair. I never saw Manny after that. His family moved away less than a month after my dad had beaten me. Life went on. I think my mom missed my dad more than she cared about what he’d done to me. Paul refused to go see him in prison. Mom made Patsy go, but she wasn’t happy about it. Paul and I grew closer because of what happened to me, though it was years later when Paul found out why dad had beaten me. Patsy became clingy, which only annoyed me further. Don’t get me wrong, I was thankful she’d called the cops, since my mother didn’t bother, but she’s six years younger than me. Practically a different generation and I didn’t understand her at all. And she was a girl, which made her that much more confusing to me, to this day. I don’t like girls, remember?
Chapter 3
I moved out by the time I was eighteen. It was too hard on me being in that house. Patsy cried. I didn’t let that bother me, or stop me. I got a job. Something meaningless just to keep a roof over my head and keep me stocked in acrylics, oils and brushes. I made my own canvases, so that helped me with money. Paul offered to help, but I declined. He was a big time college football player by then, but that didn’t mean he had money to blow. He lived at the dorm, dated cheerleaders. He didn’t have time to worry about me. I rarely saw my mom or Patsy, which was fine with me. I didn’t date. I don’t think I was ever gifted with an accurate gaydar, so kept to myself. I was twenty three when I sold my first painting and acquired an agent. Nathanial. Nathan was wonderful, sharp and ambitious…and gay. He became my lover for a brief time. Until my twenty fifth birthday. Another one that I would sooner forget, but can’t. That was the birthday I lost Nathanial. I’d like to say he dumped me, both as a lover and a client, but it’s not what happened.
We’d been seeing each other socially for about seven months, all hush hush, of course, because my career was just starting to branch out and Nathan didn’t want to jinx it by letting the world know I swung that way. I didn’t understand it, but he was the expert. I was just the artist. And becoming famous, so I kept my mouth shut and my hands to myself in public. I can’t deny time with him was wonderful. He got to meet Paul, who by that time finally knew I was gay and the reason for the beating I took from dad. There were exhibitions to attend, parties to be seen at, people to meet, contacts to make. It was a whirlwind being with Nathanial. The first months went by in a blur.
My birthday came up and Nathanial had something special planned. A day out, far from anyone we might know or who might recognize me. Nathan held my hand in public for the first time. I was ecstatic. We visited art houses, ate at a small, intimate café. All in all, a beautiful day. When we got back to my loft, Nathan had another surprise. Well, not really a surprise. He fixed dinner for me. It was desert that was special. If you haven’t figured out by now, I’m what some would call ‘a bottom’. For those of you who don’t know, that means I receive, or in other words, I’m the one who gets fucked. Crude, true, but essentially, spot on. I was never one to use such vulgar language, but there you have it.
But for my birthday? Nathanial had something else in mind. Nathanial was a hunk. Tall, at 6’ and well defined muscles. He worked out….constantly. His hair was almost as light as mine, but he had blue eyes. Dark blue eyes that stood out. He had big hands, and a big cock that matched. I was always sore after our love making. Nathan was considerate though, always giving me time to recuperate. Very thoughtful of him. But for my birthday? He offered to receive. That was certainly a shock for me. I’d never topped before, and Nathan had never bottomed.
I remember it being awkward at first. We’d showered and were standing in my bedroom gazing at each other’s naked bodies. We’d had sex many times, but it felt as if it were the first time. I guess it really was, for what we were about to do. Nathanial had a look on his face, like a nervous little boy, which was absurd since he was thirty five, ten years my senior. He moved to me, those big hands cupping my face as he kissed me. Just like Manny, my insides fluttered. But unlike Manny, I wasn’t in love with Nathan. But I was very  much sexually attracted to him. Nathanial had the kind of body most gay men dream about. I dreamed about it all the time. Nathan kissed like he meant it. I suppose he did. He had a way of devouring my mouth. He was never tender. More a take charge kind of guy. He took charge of my mouth, my body. My career.
But that night? He didn’t. He let me lead. I pushed at him, making him lay across the bed on his back. He started to turn over and I stopped him. I wanted to see his face, just like he did with me. He always wanted to see my face when I climaxed. He said it was a turn on. Seemed that way, because every time my orgasm overtook me, Nathan’s followed quickly. So I suppose he was telling the truth. I figured my orgasm face looked pretty horrendous, though I’d never seen it. There was no kink in our relationship, which included watching ourselves make love in a mirror. After that night, I wished there had been. I wished I could have watched myself make love to him.
Every few minutes, I could feel Nathan struggling not to take over. It almost made me laugh. He was such a caveman. I kissed him, wet opened mouthed kisses I knew he liked. Nathanial always had a very strong masculine smell to him, which drove me nuts. Pheromones, I was to learn later in life. I made my way down his hard body, only to stop at his equally hard cock. Nathan’s cock was a fine piece of art. Long, at nine inches, thick, cut and perfect. With Nathan, I had finally learned to deep throat without gagging, because, honey, did he love his blowjobs. New word in my vocabulary after meeting Nathanial…blowjobs. And new skill…blowjobs. I considered it quite an accomplishment on my part to be able to make him climax that way. He’d had so many over the course of his life, long before he met me. Think I remember him calling me a natural. I didn’t agree, since it took so long to eliminate my gag reflex. But to see big, brawny Nathanial lose control? It was worth it.
I sucked all around his long shaft first. He like to torture me in that same fashion. Turn around is a bitch. It was my birthday, so I figured I had the right, after all. Nathan is a very vocal lover, so when I speared his hole with my tongue, I’m sure the neighbors heard him. I couldn’t get over how far he spread his legs for that. The big man was practically doing the splits. Again, I held in my laughter. It wouldn’t do to laugh at Nathan when he was doing something for me that he’d never done before. I let my mouth wander until Nathan decided it was enough. “Stop teasing!” I heard him growl. I just smiled up at him as I sank his hard cock into my mouth. His blue eyes looked almost black, and I had to use my whole body on his hips and legs to keep him down when I sucked to the base of his shaft. Did I mention Nathanial is strong? Very strong.
For some reason, and I don’t know why, Nathan’s climax claimed him quite suddenly. I think it even surprised him. I swallowed. Got good at that as well, and Nathan tasted wonderful. I didn’t let him recover though, before I was grabbing the lube and fingering him into relaxed submission. It took longer to do that than his climax did. I didn’t want to hurt him. Nathan was never into pain. For that matter, he was a big baby when he got so much as a paper cut. So I made sure he was very prepared even though I am not nearly as large as him. My own cock is thinner than his, and only runs seven inches. But it’s mine, and Nathan seems to like it.
I got up to three fingers, finding his prostate (another new word for me after meeting Nathanial), and stroking it repeatedly. That made his cock harden again. Now I understand why I always have more than one orgasm. That sweet spot is exactly that…sweet. Or a serious erogenous zone. Take your pick. My own cock was leaking, and since I didn’t want to sleep in a wet spot, I removed my fingers and climbed up Nathan’s big body, pushing his legs back as I went. Staring into his eyes, I sank into him, my balls brushing his ass and held still. I didn’t see any discomfort in his face, but waited just the same. He always did for me. His pupils were blown, which let me know he was enjoying this like nothing else did. Nathan can get an erection at the drop of a hat, so I was never really sure he was actually aroused and enjoying himself, or climaxing on command. Sounds weird, I know. I never thought guys could fake it, but I sure wondered with Nathan. When he pushed his hips up at me, I knew it was time to move. Thank God! Don’t think I could have held out much longer. I pulled out and thrust back in, and Nathan got vocal right away. Groans, moans, gasps, hisses. The whole litany. Nothing verbal, of course, but certainly loud.
My own orgasm was slow in building, but steady. It was very different being at the pitching end of sex. I had to shift several times before the friction was just right. And when I found the friction that made my body tingle, I found Nathan’s prostate as well. Perfection. I’m not vocal like Nathanial. Probably due to the trauma that happened after Manny. But Nathan saw my face. Knew when I lost my rhythm and suddenly ground into him, that I was filling the condom I’d slipped on. His long cock shot semen in jets over his perfect six pack abs and swollen pectorals, and as his back tunnel squeezed around me, it prolonged my own orgasm longer than I’d ever had. Wow, now that was certainly different. I decided I liked it and hoped Nathan wouldn’t limit this gift to me on just my birthday.
We cleaned up, both of us tired. But Nathanial wanted to have a last glass of wine before we went to sleep. It was nearing midnight. I told him I didn’t have any wine, so he decided he was going to run down to the corner store and pick some up. I didn’t want him to go, told him it was fine and the whole day was more than I expected, but he insisted, giving me one of those boyish smiles I couldn’t resist. I let him go. Nathanial never came back. At eleven fifty eight, I got a phone call from Roxanne, Nathanial’s partner at the agency. Nathanial was dead. Shot and killed in a robbery gone bad at the small corner store, a bottle of wine clutched in one hand…and a red rose in the other. 
Again, see why I don’t like birthdays? Twenty three, and I decided I was not going to celebrate another. I would let them come and go as if they were just any other day. Nothing special. Nothing to make a fuss over. Nothing to remember if I could help it. I got away with it for six years. But I guess fate didn’t like that I had snubbed my own birthday.