Prom Night Ch. 08 by SWhite1982,SWhite1982 My Dear Readers,
I’m baaaack…
My apologies for the extreme delays, especially with the later chapters. While I had a few different ideas on how to build up to ending this thing, once I picked one, I had to make certain the trajectory of the story was just right (to satisfy my own peace of mind). Of course, as a music nut, there were some beautiful Stevie Nicks lines I had to include to help tell the story. I hope you enjoy how I used them because they’re some of my favorite lines. See how many you know; they’re cited at the end of this chapter if you can’t name the songs (I wanted to give proper credit to Stevie, of course.)
I hope all of you enjoy the second to last chapter of this story. I’m already halfway through the final chapter.
Thanks for sticking with me,
Steve
Prom Night: Chapter 8
The night I returned home from my falling out with James Monaco, I sat up late watching reruns of nineties sitcoms with my father. I tried my best to act as if nothing was the matter—if only to hold up my part of the deal to forever keep our secret—so I could avoid whatever questions my father might have. While I had already shared the secret with Todd, I didn’t want to involve anyone else. What happened was done. And as if my father could pick up on that, he made no effort to question me about my evening or why my eyes were damp from crying in the car when I returned home.
He finally went to bed at almost one, but I didn’t move. I only stared at the television screen, replaying the words James and I exchanged again and again. My mind finding countless things I should have said or could have done differently, until my brain was nothing but a jumble of hurt and regret. How could he not try to work with me to figure something out when he made it seem like all he wanted was me? Did he really want me, or was it all just some fucked up series of hookups? And what did that mean, in the grand scheme of things?
I didn’t know. And watching sitcoms was only beginning to piss me off as I watched straight, cookie cutter marital couples have tiffs in every television episode that was resolved just in time for the half-hour credits. So, at 2:30AM, I finally shut off the television and tried to go to bed—only to find that sleep too would evade me.
It was like my brain was on constant replay. James’s voice kept repeating his words from our argument over and over, the memories overlaid with other memories of him. The joyous moments he held me close; the long walk we took together on prom night just talking; all of it came back again and again with the single realization that it was over. That whatever we had was ruined by his unwillingness to try.
This wasn’t fair. And the more that I thought about it, the more I couldn’t sleep. I laid there in the dark the rest of the night, wanting nothing more than to be able to just drop it and sleep. To forget about James Monaco and carry on as if he’d meant nothing to me. Recalling that I had never felt this way after an argument before—angry and hurt and, at the same time, guilty. Like I had done something wrong for feeling this way about him. That I was a bad person for allowing myself to blur such simple lines of authority with a man who was obviously going to be married. It was a stupid and pathetic thing to feel, but whenever that doubt made me question if it was me—if I truly was just some dumb jock he didn’t care about—I couldn’t help but cry.
But like an unstoppable force, morning came, and I had only nodded off thirty minutes before my alarm. I sat there on the edge of my bed for a while, thinking about going to school—if only to prove to my History teacher that he didn’t affect me. Knowing full well that I didn’t think I could face him just yet. So I made up a lie about feeling sick and stayed home. My father not pressing me too much about it—probably because he knew something bad had happened.
I slept off and on like that, dreams coming and going in tiny fragments which ceased to make sense. Until I found myself wandering around in a dreamworld that was so unlike reality—so much better, actually, because at least in dreams he was still there—that my mind couldn’t believe it. I woke close to noon, feeling for the first time, the full weight of everything.
There had to be a solution I was missing—that both of us were missing. But short of going back into the past and changing the circumstances under which we met, the answer still evaded me. After a while, I tried to shut my eyes again, but this time only proved more difficult. The hurt on James’s face burned into the darkness behind my eyelids, until I could no longer deny it. The almost-pleading tone of him telling me he didn’t want it to be goodbye resonated in my ears—until I wondered if I was being an idiot for questioning if he ever really cared.
He had to have cared, didn’t he?
I got up and showered, if only to wash away some of the turmoil from my soul. And when that didn’t do, I dressed and went for a walk. Trying to think of a way to organize my thoughts. And when I had rounded our block twice and it still seemed that nothing would do, an instinct brought me back to the house. Back to my room.
Where, as if on autopilot, I just sat down at my laptop and started typing.
***
He’s not at school today.
James Monaco hadn’t been certain at first—he found made-up reasons to wander the halls in between classes scoping the student crowds for Dominic—but by the time all the students took their seats in Dominic’s History class, he was certain. And while perhaps it had been best—no, easier, his mind corrected—for him to give his lesson that way, something about that empty chair made him feel worse. It sat there, vacant of its temporary owner, judging him. Reminding him that, while he might have been able to get forty-five minutes of sleep and put himself together enough to look like everything was alright, that something was still off. That things had changed which would forever be impossible to change back.
His words broke and jumbled all lesson as he couldn’t stop looking at that empty desk. And like a ripple, the feeling only carried over into the remaining classes he taught the rest of the day. Until, by the time he finally got home from work, James needed a drink.
It wasn’t often that he engaged with hard liquor, but this day, he made an exception. After making himself a double of Jack and coke, he sat on the sofa in the fading daylight and confided his mixed feelings to the only being he thought wouldn’t judge him—Toby. But it seemed the more he talked to the little feline, James noticed Toby looking toward the door. Perhaps a sign he was waiting for Dominic to arrive.
You’ll be waiting a hell of a long time, old boy.
James took a sip of his drink before continuing, “Anyway, as I was saying, perhaps the worst part of it was that…maybe he was right.”
Toby, perched on the coffee table atop a thick paper envelope of photographs, craned his head. Eyes wide as if he were surprised.
“Not about everything—don’t look so shocked.” James laughed and clinked the ice in his glass around a little to see the dark medicine swirl. “I just mean… Maybe he wasn’t exactly wrong about the photography business.”
The cat stared—imploring him to go on.
“Some of my happiest moments were behind the camera, old boy.” James swigged some more alcohol, relishing in the burning aftertaste that chased the coca cola.
Toby peered down at the thick envelope under his front paws, then back at his owner. As James set his glass on the coffee table, the cat rolled onto his side and nudged the envelope a little with one paw.
“Is that you asking me to show you?” James laughed and scratched a little at Toby’s stomach with a few fingers.
Toby only purred, rolling a little onto his back to playfully bat at his owner’s hand. Once the hand withdrew, the fuzzy animal rolled back onto his side, and his body nudged at the envelope again.
“Alright, show and tell it is…” James sighed. He petted Toby a little behind the ears before retrieving the envelope from the table top. He took out the thick stack of photographs and started slowly flipping through them. “Alright…we have here my trip to Baltimore two years ago. We have the inner harbor…”
The cat gazed at the photographs James held up to show him. The first two captured some of the buildings in grayscale. The next four focused on tourists crowding around the center.
“Let’s see… The next few here look like Fort McHenry. A nice little shot of Caroline here…” He held up more photos for Toby to see—some detailed landscapes capturing black cannons aimed towards the blue waters.
Toby yawned.
“And…shit. I guess these aren’t all Baltimore.” He held up the next one; it was one of Dominic laughing as he stirred something on the stove. Just behind him and partially obscured, James stood with a wide grin on his face—his arm around his student to get a picture of both of them together.
He showed Toby, who purred.
James went through the next few. These were all from the same night; he could tell by the clothing they were wearing. The next two showed Dominic still standing beside the stove in black and white. His eyes were filled with a gleam that gave his face a thoughtful expression. His lips were in a slight half-smile, and James would have given anything to be able to ask Dom at that moment what he was thinking.
“I’ll never know, I guess.” He whispered. James sat back—no longer caring to show the photographs to Toby as he flipped through them. He knew what the rest of this envelope would be. They were all of he and Dom together. His eyes traced the lines of every frozen moment, his brain on automatic replay with every second until he could no longer be certain how they had gone from such happiness to despair. Then, when he finished, reality came back to him, and he remembered.
It was over now.
***
It was another night where sleep evaded James Monaco. He tossed and turned, but it was no use. Whenever he closed his eyes, the happiness of the photographs he’d taken were burned into the darkness behind his eyelids keeping him awake. And when he’d reposition himself to nuzzle his pillows just a little harder to force himself into the sweet bliss of unconsciousness, traces of Dom’s body spray were still in the fabric. Not nearly enough to make him feel like he was there but just enough for James to understand that someone was missing from his bed.
So he finally let go and lay in the dark, where he found it was safe for him to admit something else that was bothering him, if only to stop thinking about Dominic. When he thought back to the night he’d last enjoyed his time with his student, a physical line had been crossed within him that he had never expected. As much as he knew he’d enjoyed all they had done together, it had been easy for him to think himself as straight because James had respected that line. Now, he only thought himself an asshole for not seeing that line hadn’t meant anything at all. That maybe he wasn’t as straight as he wanted to be.
There was only one way to check, he thought. With his breath unsteady, he turned on his back and slipped his hands under the covers. The dark room was quiet around him. James didn’t even think Toby was around to witness anything. He was safe to test the extent of his sexual interests; no one would ever know unless he told them.
His right was the first to find the waistband of his underwear. Carefully, one thumb hooked inside it and drug it down his hip. Then his left hand did the same with the other side, and he had to scoot himself up to get them down below his balls. His cock was already hardening, knowing what he was about to do. And when his underwear was finally around his ankles where he could kick it off the rest of the way, the tip of his dick was twitching against the sheets.
James couldn’t help but feel naughty. He’d pleasured himself hundreds of times since he’d first figured out how to make himself cum as a pre-teen, and he was an adult with an apartment and locked door. But this felt different. Lying there in the dark—knowing he would soon do something that he’d grown up thinking straight men don’t do—felt so taboo he might as well have been an eighteen-year-old trying to release a little tension long after Mom and Dad had gone to bed.
His right hand wrapped around his growing erection. His thumb rubbed the sensitive tip, coaxing some precum from the slit, and his efforts were met with another twitch. Feeling himself fill with blood, he slowly glided his right hand up and down. Starting to masturbate.
James’s cock was rock hard now. His mind preparing himself for the next part, his body already hot and tingling with anticipation. This was so fucked up. And so wrong. But he had enjoyed it once, hadn’t he? If he enjoyed it again, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
His hand worked faster, and his pelvis flexed chasing the stimulation as all his nerve endings wound tension in him. It felt so fucking good, he thought, like it always did. And somehow, feeling his cock in his hand felt good.
Then, for the first time in his life, James Monaco closed his eyes and started masturbating while thinking about other men. He started with the guys he’d seen in the locker room when he was in high school. Ken Phillips had been one of them James had seen change regularly because their lockers were right next to each other. And when James was in high school, Ken had no hang ups about showing off his body.
He was a short guy but had a decent amount of muscle with a light dusting of blonde hair on his tight ass. His girlfriend was in the marching band, whenever they made out in the hallways in between classes, James couldn’t help but notice her hands were always gripping his tight bubble. James had seen that tight ass framed in nothing more than a jockstrap on a few occasions. What would have happened if he had just reached out and copped a feel?
James fell deeper into his fantasies, trying to picture what Ken might have done. How that trail of hair on his crack would have felt to the touch if he had been able to run his index finger across it. What it would have smelled like if he could have stuck his face there. Maybe even what sounds Ken might have made if James had parted those athletic cheeks and dove in with his tongue. And….
Fuck, this was hot. But the more he tried to picture what he remembered Ken looked like in high school, the more James found his mental image slowly changing. The lines and details blurring and unblurring until the man he was picturing was Dominic. And his wonderment of what if’s was turning into solid memory of what it was like kissing, rimming, and fucking him.
His cock was leaking precum down his shaft and all over the top sheet with every movement. And suddenly, Ken didn’t exist at all. Had never existed as more than a typical curious teenage boy stare. Dominic was real. And suddenly, they were together in the dark, exploring each other in ways no straight men could ever explore and still be straight.
That’s when James finally gathered the courage to put his other hand to work. He started by lightly touching his balls, caressing them and petting the thick pubic hair around his cock with his thumb. Then moving lower to where he’d been planning to go all along. His index finger tracing his sensitive perineum just behind his sac, following the line of hair there to his own ass. Nearing the line of no return Dominic had crossed to pleasure him only a short time ago.
It was a tough angle with his index finger. But with his middle finger—curved like a downward hook—he was able to hit the mark right on. His fingertip hit the hole like a bullseye, and a quiver ran up his spine. He traced the indentation again, rubbing it a little lighter, and sighed as the electric feel came over him again.
His mind wandered. The figure of Dom was now full-frontal—revealing the cock that James had sucked numerous times during their trysts. And while his mouth watered, it wasn’t because he could remember the feel of its girth sliding into his mouth or the salted taste of the precum.
No. His mouth was dry with anticipation, wanting to ask a question James never imagined a straight man would vocalize. His mouth opened, breathing a little heavier, as his finger prodded deeper into his crevice. Until, finally, the folds of skin parted and he was able to gently ease his fingertip inside himself. Going slow to minimize the burning sensation as his hole clenched against the invader.
With his cock momentarily forgotten, James paused off and on in his fingering. Trying to work a little more of his finger in at a time. And when it seemed like it just wasn’t doing the trick, he reached for the tube of lube in the nightstand drawer and rubbed a little on the finger. Then James worked a little more into his tight button, aware of how much he was clenching and unclenching when the cold lube was dabbled on.
Then he tried again, and this time, it was easier. His finger eased in up to the second knuckle. Far enough that he could now feel the warmth of his insides. His mind associating them so closely with the feel of Dom’s when he fingered him. But when he went a little further, James touched something that shattered any thoughts of being on top and fucking an ass.
It was a hard, round, nub. And the moment he touched, his back tingled with such excitement that his ass clenched around his finger. His cock twitched in his other hand, and when he stroked it, James discovered that there were fresh droplets of precum oozing out of the tip. He touched it again, this time rubbing it a little. And when his finger stroked the forbidden pleasure button, he couldn’t help but moan.
No, this wasn’t at all what straight men did. But maybe he wasn’t so straight at all. Maybe he was just gay enough to speak that question his dry mouth had been wanting to ask Dom in his fantasy. Alone in the dark, he touched that button again. And again, that euphoria spread through him like warm, liquid butter, and his breath hitched. His cock twitching as he stroked it more, feeling the pressure building within him.
“Yeah…right there…” James’s voice was a whisper. “Right…”
More stroking. More rubbing the magic button. And suddenly, the electricity was pulsing up the shaft of his dick. Making the tip of him throb with more precum as he experienced what he could only imagine Dom had experienced multiple times. His mind a blur; he thought about that question again. Although, now the wording of it resembled more of a plead. But did that fucking matter? Rubbing that button, he’d practically call Caroline and confess how gay he was if only it meant getting just one more precious second of euphoria. He’d call Dom next and propose and take him out first thing in the morning to shop for China patterns and gay flags and…
“Fuck me, Dom!” He finally shouted when the desire to say it finally got too much. “Pleeeeease……f—fuck meeeee.”
And he came. It came on so suddenly that he couldn’t stop it. Nor did he want to. And when the orgasm came, it was an explosion. His mouth hanging open as the head of his dick pulsed and launched missiles of cum all over his hairy body. And then, as he lay spattered—the euphoria enveloping him—it all hit home in his brain. For the first time in his life, James Monaco came from fingering himself. And maybe he wasn’t as straight as he thought.
He lay there in the dark, panting as he withdrew his finger. And as the silence descended again on the darkness, James felt more alone than ever. Because, while he enjoyed himself, the man he’d fantasized about would never be able to make him feel those things anymore. Dom was gone, thanks to James’s ridiculous circumstances.
Thanks for reading pls vote or comment For a while, he lay there in the dark, feeling worse than ever. Knowing there was someone not only missing from his bed but missing from his life, forever. And that he had bound himself to a sacred marital commitment that he shouldn’t have.
But what could he do? The odds were against them. The law was too. And sometimes, love just didn’t work out. It was with these thoughts in mind that James did cry. And when he was through, he gave a silent wish that Dom might find happiness without him, no matter how much it killed James to think about. Finally, he ordered a dildo through Amazon before going to sleep, hoping his future wife would never know she was about to marry a gay man.
***
The next day, I skipped school again, where I spent hours alone in the house pounding out my frustration into words with my laptop. I lost count of how many pages came into formation from my torrent of emotions. Or just how long I spent zoning out into the white space of the Word document. Until, it wasn’t just my story—it was my feelings for the man I loved. Laying structure to the events and thoughts and confusion which had finally exploded the other night that I could obtain enough distance from them to better understand myself and our situation—and realize just how madly in love with James Monaco I was.
I might as well have been furniture in my room. I didn’t leave the room all day except to take a shower and maybe grab a bottle of Gatorade. I ate dinner with my family, but I wasn’t very hungry. I had my thoughts and words to gnaw on. And those provided enough pain that I couldn’t help but cry. Careful not to be loud enough that my parents would hear.
All of it was just coming out of me. The Stevie Nicks CD’s James burned for me only intensified it all for me, as I felt like I understood the nuances of love she sang about. Especially when it came to love lost. I was on autopilot, writing true everything between us and holding back nothing.
It was on the morning of the third day—Friday—of my escape from school that my father confronted me. He came in and shut my bedroom door and sat down on the side of my bed, and I could tell from the look on his face that he was struggling with how to begin. We sat there for a little while in silence before he spoke. “He dumped you, didn’t he?”
I didn’t want to talk about this with anyone, but the danger of talking about it with my father only made it worse. I had to keep this secret. No matter how much it hurt the way it ended, I couldn’t allow harm to come to someone I loved so much. I took a breath, then said, “No, I’ve just not been feeling—”
“Don’t bullshit me, Dominic.” My father didn’t look at me. His face was etched in concern that was made of concrete. His tone was cold, simple. “I raised you to be better than that.”
I swallowed and nodded.
“He dumped you, didn’t he?”
I didn’t speak. I had to protect him.
“I thought you and I had an understanding—that I could treat you like an adult.” He paused, his face tougher than ever. Hurt edged around his eyes.
“We do, Dad—”
“Then talk to me,” my father finally looked at me. “You’re my son. I love you. I’m concerned about you. Ditching school like this…this isn’t you, Dom.”
“He didn’t dump me, Dad.” I finally said. I had never seen my father like this before, and now, it broke my heart even more. I wanted to tell him everything. To share with him this secret that has been eating me alive. But the thought of James being seen and treated as a monster for a love that was two-sided? How could I live with that?
“Okay. What happened then?” He scooted closer. I bit my lip, my gaze unable to meet his. “Can you level with me?”
I swallowed hard, feeling like I’d be a terrible person no matter how I treated the scenario. Knowing I’d feel guilty if I didn’t tell my father and knowing I’d feel guilty if I told him, for a completely different reason. The two desires dueled inside myself until I just said what I felt I could. “I broke it off with him.”
He nodded, his eyes staring into me. Seeing—in his fatherly way—that I wasn’t lying to him. “I thought you were happy with him.”
“I was,” I said before I could stop myself. My throat tightened a little, but I swallowed my tears. I couldn’t cry in front of him again—not if I was going to get through this. I said, “He was just afraid.”
“Afraid of being gay?”
“It’s pretty complicated and stupid, Dad. But…in a nutshell.”
“So you’ve been skipping…to avoid him?”
I nodded.
He nodded.
“I’m sorry for skipping,” I murmured. I still couldn’t look at him. My fingers played with the folds of the top blanket.
My father sighed and looked away. And when he finally spoke, his tone was softer. “For what it’s worth, Dominic, you did the right thing. I don’t care who this guy thinks he is; if he can’t be happy himself, then he can’t make you happy.”
I forced a brief smile. Feeling the weight of the situation only partially alleviated. I hoped he wouldn’t ask more questions; I had already gone close enough to the edge of danger.
“That doesn’t mean that you can keep skipping school,” he turned back to me. “You worked your ass off to get through high school. Don’t fuck anything up this close to the end.”
“Okay.” My eyes finally met his.
“And besides, you’re going to run into these issues again out in the world—not necessarily with men you date but with people you don’t want to deal with. Those people aren’t going to go away, kiddo.”
I said nothing, allowing his words to sink in.
“You’re going to have to face this guy sooner or later.”
“You’re right.” I dropped my eyes back to my blanket. My fingers picked at the stray threads. “Just sucks, though. I don’t know what to say.”
“It does suck.” He nodded. “But I don’t think you have to say anything. If he’s too stupid to realize he fucked up, he’s not worth the time.”
I shrugged. “I guess so.”
For a minute, neither of us spoke. Then he broke the silence. “So I’m going to let you off the hook for today. But if your ass isn’t back in school on Monday, you’re going to have to deal with me. Got it?”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Anytime, buddy.” And for the first time during our exchange, he smiled.
I forced a smile too, wondering if he’d be so cool if he knew it was a teacher. He was on his way out when he stopped. With the door half-open, he turned back, and for a minute, I thought he prompt me to tell him more about my love life.
“I almost forgot,” he said, “What night is your graduation next week?”
“Wednesday.”
“Great.” Dad smiled. “I’m looking forward to it. Make sure you text Todd; he wants to be there too.”
***
That Friday wasn’t only eventful for Dominic; James Monaco had his fair share of turmoil too. It started with only two hours of sleep. And like a ripple effect, things got worse as the day progressed. His classes were borderline anarchy. Summer fever had set in big time with the last day of school scheduled for Tuesday, with the high school graduation ceremony scheduled for Wednesday evening at 6PM. And his enthusiasm for instructing his students was on par with them, as between his exhaustion and emotional hurt, he wanted nothing more for the weekend to roll around. If only so he could cure one of his issues.
But what little joy remained in the day completely diminished once he laid eyes on Dominic’s empty seat again. Knowing that he couldn’t have been sick because this was the third day and that summer was gearing up. For as much as Dom had hurt him, James knew he had hurt Dom too. And while he labored through class until the bell rang, all he could do was wonder if he’d ever see his younger lover again.
During his free period, he considered this again. Sitting on the top of the desk just in front of Dominic’s. His eyes trying to imagine the figure of the eighteen-year-old sitting in it.
He’d really fucked this up. He knew that as the silence of the room weighed heavy on his shoulders. That empty desk judged him, reminding him that it had once been occupied by someone who had dared to love James and see him for who he was. A man who had dared him to be better and bolder and braver when James showed him his weaknesses.
What the fuck was he doing? He was about to marry a woman who didn’t ignite nearly a fraction of the intense feelings Dominic did. He was about to wed a woman who was kind and nice and safe—but not at all what he wanted. And why? All so he could play the rest of his life safe—living a lie.
There may not have been anything he could do about Dom because, surely, Dom did not want to see him. That was evident from the way he’d been skipping school. But there were things about himself that James could change and could control for his own happiness going forward.
He got off the desk and went to his own desk at the front of the room. James sat down at his desktop and started typing before he could talk himself out of it. And when he was done a few minutes later, he sent a lone text message to Caroline: We need to talk.
***
He wasn’t good at these things; he never had been. Part of that was because James Monaco hadn’t had many relationships in the past. A larger part—the part that usually made it worse—was because he didn’t want to hurt the other person. No matter how much dragging it out usually ended up hurting the other anyway.
These thoughts followed him home from the school after he printed and submitted his document at the main office. Until the more that he tried to plan what he would say, the more nervous he became. How could he do this? How could anyone in their right mind not be nervous leading up to it? James wished he knew.
He needed a distraction. He knew he’d go insane until then without one. Caroline had agreed to meet him at a little park near her apartment complex at six o’clock, and even with a generous amount of time built in for traffic, James knew he’d still have an hour to kill. That meant an hour to work up enough nervousness to chicken out or give himself a nervous breakdown, whichever would probably come first.
Get it together, James chided himself as he went up the wooden steps on the front porch. You got to keep your shit together for this. Fuck, he needed a drink…or maybe seventeen. Maybe if he just liquored himself up enough that he was on the verge of being drunk…
The white bubble mailer outside his door stopped him. What the fuck had he ordered again? James retrieved it and brought it inside, and only when he felt the cylindrical girth of the item inside the packaging did new nervous knots twist within him. It was the dildo he’d ordered.
He unwrapped it and set it on the coffee table, his eyes unable to stray from the seven-inch-long blue device even from across the room. It pointed up at the ceiling and might as well have been as thick as tree because it looked a lot thicker than his finger. How the fuck would that ever fit?
As much as he wanted a drink, James relented. Serious talks—especially of the sort he would be soon having with Caroline—only got more complicated when alcohol was involved. And drinking and driving wasn’t really his style, as much as it would properly lubricate his lips to speak the honest truth when he was too afraid. So, instead, he sat on the sofa and stared at the dildo. Wondering just how in the world gay men were supposed to enjoy that. It looked like it’d fit better in his mouth than up his ass.
He considered this for a while until, without realizing it, his dick was hard. Twitching with remembrance of the sensation of fingering himself. His eyes traced the vein-like lines of the toy, imagining how something like that might touch more of that special spot inside him…wondering if, just maybe he went slow and used lots of lube…
Toby leapt onto the coffee table. His little feline eyes went from the toy to his owner, then somewhere else like he understood what the device was for. The cat sat looking toward the front door, at the opposite end of the table as James’s new toy. And the entire situation—along with his growing nervousness about the upcoming talk—only made James the more embarrassed. He put his head in his hands, wondering again just what the fuck he was thinking.
This wasn’t like him. Being gay was fine, but it wasn’t fine when it was him. The idea of seeing someone else embrace love with someone of the same sex was whatever. But when it was his own body—his own thoughts and feelings—that changed everything. Was he really gay? That finger just could have been a fluke…something that wouldn’t always feel so good.
James sighed. And like an unstoppable force, the memory of that fingering sensation came back to him. Until he couldn’t deny he was harder than ever. His hole giving a tiny twitch. And then, like an act of necessity, he whispered to himself, “Well…you needed a distraction.” And James knew that a dildo might definitely be a distraction for nervousness, especially if it felt good.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he was taking the toy into the bedroom. He still had 45 minutes till he had to leave to meet Caroline. That would be more than enough time to answer the question he was afraid he already knew the answer to.
He shut the door and undressed without a word. Somehow, the idea of Toby coming in while he tried it out made him uncomfortable. This was a private testing—James’s final gay test. His heart was unsteady as he slipped off his underwear, his rock hard erection bouncing up as it was finally freed from the confines of clothing. Then he laid out a towel on the bed and eased himself down onto his back.
Before his hands started their work, he closed his eyes. And somehow, that only heightened the intensity of it all. His brain knew enough of what to expect but not everything. He took the lube and lathered a little down the crack of his ass. His body hair was slick and matted as his finger worked the cool liquid around his opening, and he couldn’t help but shiver. This felt wrong. This felt gay. This felt…naughty.
Oh, yeah, James’s mind went into overload. With his fingertip rubbing around the hole, he could feel a tingle shooting up his spine. And it felt so good. His nervousness was no match for the feelings of pleasure that radiated within him. Until, finally, he slid the finger inside himself.
It went in easier this time, and he found the target right away. That same hard nub that made him quiver. His fingertip brushed it, and he bit his lip to stifle a moan. Because, yes, this was fucking naughty. But he didn’t care. Right now, he needed this—gay or straight or who the fuck cared. He rubbed, and the nervousness melted away. Replaced by the tingle of pleasure waves deep within him.
That was when he tried adding a second finger. He went too fast at first, and the tight ring burned a little as James fought to slide in the second finger right beside the first. But when he took it out again for a few seconds and breathed deep, those same tingles spread through him. And he realized that, while that second finger was too much too quick, now he felt just a little empty. Something was missing.
Tentatively, he eased the second finger back in, and now he was full again. And this time, it was easier imagining it was Dominic prepping him to get fucked. Because he’d fucked Dominic enough to know now that fingers were the first step to something bigger. That warm, thick dick James imagined taking.
His two fingers pressed together, and together, they rubbed that tough little nub of his prostate. And now he did moan because, in all his life, he never knew he needed a fucking as much as he did now. James fingered himself, working his fingers to massage that pleasure button until his mouth was hanging open. Wondering how the fuck he could have thought this would’ve been a fluke to enjoy.
No, he fucking needed this. So fucking bad. And realizing this finally, James gave himself what he needed. He gradually increased the thrusting of his own fingers. Welcoming the sensation of them going in and out. Until his tiny hole’s resistance wasn’t quite as bad. His insides inviting his digits in with a warmth and a need for more. He groaned.
With breath ragged, his other hand pawed at the bed until he found the dildo. And this time, when he gripped the girth of it, the thickness didn’t seem so great. It might have been Dominic’s dick encased in a condom. Or even a rubber mold of it. And with that realization came the knowledge that it would fit deep inside his virgin hole… He’d just have to go slow and use plenty of lube. Just like if Dom were going to fuck him right now.
James withdrew his fingers and spread a generous helping of lube on the toy. Then he lathered a dollop more on his tight opening. His ass twitching at the cool liquid making contact with his skin. Then, gently, he put the tip of it at his opening, enjoying the electric sensation as he rubbed the slick head against his tightness.
He worked the tip in a circular motion, imagining it was Dom. With his eyes closed, he could almost see his ex-lover between his legs. That same grin from the first time they ever had sex on his face. The mental image was almost enough to make him beg, but he bit his lip. He didn’t want to beg yet. Somehow, that’d just make this a little more gay in his mind.
But how could he not? When he took several deep breaths and slowly applied enough pressure to part the folds of his hole, the tip of the toy entered him with a plop. And there was no mistaking it that he had a dick inside him. And in his mind, it was Dom’s dick. He was about to get his first fucking by one of his own students. Never before, had James felt more naughty.
When the discomfort of the invasion passed, he slid a little more in, until he was panting. His spine was a lightning show of tingling pleasure as he was filled with the thickness of the dildo. He lost track of how long he took easing each inch deeper and deeper inside him. James only remembered the way it felt when the base of it touched the outside of his ass. Feeling like he’d been filled with something—someone, in his mind—that he didn’t know he’d needed. And with that feeling, came the electric glow of his special spot nudging the dildo. So intense that James understood exactly who he was.
He was a gay man.
He’d been trying to deny himself for so long throughout his affair with Dom, blinded by the danger associated with their circumstances, that it’d taken getting fucked with a dildo to realize who he was. James Monaco was gay. And no matter how many Carolines or women there were in this world, it wouldn’t change that he needed something a woman could never give him. That he needed the love of a good man—the exact thing he’d had with Dom.
James grabbed his dick and started stroking it.
He eased the dildo back to the tip, then slid it all the way deep inside himself again. And when it hit that pleasure button, he moaned. Because, for the first time in his life, he was embracing who he was. And there would be no turning back. Not ever…no…no… He slid the dildo out and then back in as he thought this, and…fuck, it was perfect. So unlike any sex with a woman.
Because, in his mind, Dom was inside him. And that dick felt incredible. In and out, slowly at first, James maneuvered his toy. Until he was whimpering every time that tip hit his magic button. His ass pulsing around the feel of the girth, no long uncomfortable but loving being filled like the naughty gay man he was.
James fucked himself like that, imagining the determined look Dom might have if he were deep inside him right now. His chest and neck sweaty with every thrust, his hair damp as he fucked his own History teacher. “Ohhhhh,” James couldn’t help but moan. “Dommmmmm…”
And his tight little ass was twitching even more with every electric feel of the fucking. Until, without realizing it, he was working his hole on the cock. Trying to draw Dom deeper than ever inside him. Determined to feel every last millimeter deep in his warm envelope until they both came. James fucked himself, that seven-inch dildo his new favorite toy.
Thanks for reading pls vote or comment “Fuck, how can this feel so good?” He whimpered. “Holy shit…” His hand rocked the dildo faster and faster, now at a steady rhythm as he fucked himself. His hips rolled when he slid it deeper and deeper inside himself, the tip nudging his prostate with every stroke. His other hand stroking his cock for dear life, loving the tightness in his pelvis.
“Shiiiiiiittttttt,” he bit down on his lip, if only to control the volume of his moaning. His mind was nothing more than fireworks at this point, unable to comprehend anything than the feel of the dildo as he imagined his younger lover balls deep inside him. Showing him just how gay he really had been all along. Until James couldn’t control himself anymore, saying whatever came to mind.
“Fuck…fuuuuuck…..fuckkkmnnnnnnngggghh…. Oh, God. Gooodd, yesss, please…nnnngghhh. I’m so fucking gay. So. Fucking. Gay. Mmmmmm….”
His hand went faster. His wrist ached from moving the dildo, but he couldn’t have cared less. His other hand pumped himself, his thumb rubbing just under the tip of his cock. He was loving it. James was a gay man, and right now, he just needed a good fucking. The kind of fucking Dom was giving him, in his mind.
James’s body vibrated all over. Pressure was building deep in his balls, but damn if he could stop it. His masturbating grew faster, his hand tightening around the shaft of his dick, which was slick with precum. He drove the dildo deep inside himself, in and out, in and back out, with such force that his words died into meaningless sounds. Feeling the thrum of an intense orgasm approaching.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuu….” He moaned. And then the thrum intensified, and his entire body pulsed. Cum shot out of his rock hard cock splattered all over his chest and his shoulders. A droplet hit his chin, but he couldn’t have cared less. His mind could only focus on the intensity of his first orgasm with the dildo deep inside him, till his hole was in a vice grip around it. His brain envisioning Dom’s dick and praying he would never take it out.
James’s whole body quaked with the orgasm, pumping spurt after spurt after spurt until euphoria crashed over him. Knowing that he was gay and had well-fucked. Understanding that, yes, there was no going back now.
When he finally came back down from the clouds of sexual bliss, James finally looked at the clock. He was five minutes late in leaving. With his chest heaving, he lay there for five minutes longer, unable to move. Until at last he forced himself to put the dildo in the bathroom sink, give himself a quick wipe with the towel, and get re-dressed.
Then he drove to meet Caroline, the nervousness thoroughly obliterated.
***
The park by Caroline’s apartment complex was just across town. It wasn’t much to see—a decent-sized lot with a large pond in the middle of it—but it had a gravel path circling its perimeter. And more importantly, it was quiet and away from things to hide behind. There would be no liquor like there had been at Frank’s Sports Bar. There would be no food either. And most importantly, there would be no friends. The two of them arrived alone, James feeling low and uncomfortable for what had delayed his arrival.
She was over by the large metal sculpture that always looked to James like something incomprehensible. Today, its form spoke to him because he too felt incomprehensible. The man that he’d been only weeks ago was gone. He was a new man now, having had experiences which forever altered him in ways he never imagined possible. And while he knew this meeting would kill him to be a part of, he knew it’d never be fair to her otherwise.
Caroline’s short blonde hair was swept back behind her ears the same way it’d been the first time he saw her. And when he came up to her, he couldn’t look at her. She just looked too damn beautiful to hurt.
“Sorry for being late,” he offered.
His fiancé shrugged. Then her blue eyes fell to the ground too, and as if in silent agreement, they fell into step together. Their feet crunched gravel like the rhythmic ticking of a clock, every footfall twisting the knot of nervous tension in James’s stomach just a little tighter until he spoke.
“Thank you for meeting me like this…I know it’s short notice.”
She bit her lip before responding. “Well…you wanted to talk.”
He sighed. Around them, the park was alive in the early evening light. There were joggers and children playing games. An elderly man stood at the water’s edge tossing pieces of bread to the mallards, who quacked happily as they feasted in the golden sun. With his throat tightening, James pressed himself to continue. “I, uh… I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”
“And you want to break it off,” she forced a smile. Caroline kept walking while James stopped.
When he caught up to her, he asked, “So you knew?”
They weren’t quite a quarter of the way around the park, and already James felt worse than ever. He’d failed her in more ways than one. First by cheating, then by lying and continuing to cheat, and finally by allowing their relationship to linger like an annoying band-aid while he sorted out his newfound sexuality.
Caroline didn’t say a word; she only nodded. And for another minute or two, they kept walking. Neither looking at the other, their feet the only noise.
“I…” He started, but she cut him off.
“You don’t have to be sorry, James. A woman knows, that’s all.” She swallowed but didn’t bother to look at him. And despite how horrible he felt, James gazed fully upon her—to understand the weight of his decisions. He almost thought she knew everything; then she continued. “The night with Danielle, I got to thinking myself. A lot about what you said. And I realized that what you said is true.”
“Which part?”
Her eyes were moist when she glanced at him, but Caroline forced a smile anyway. “About being best friends. I mean, I thought we…were once upon a time…” She paused. “But I think the more time we spent together, it was familiarity keeping us together.”
James nodded, unable to refute her observation.
“You’re still my friend, James—that is, if that’s what you’d like to be. But…I can’t be with you any more than you can be with me. Familiar is nice, but it’s not love.”
Her words hit him harder than ever. Knowing she was right. “I never meant to hurt you… I’m sorry if I—”
She shook her head. “You didn’t hurt me—at least, not the way you think. When you pulled away, I pulled away too. It was…” Caroline swallowed. “Just another accident waiting to happen.”
“But you weren’t the reason I pulled away.”
It was her turn to nod, waiting for him to continue.
“Caroline, I…”
“There’s someone else; I know.”
The knot was tighter than ever; James thought he might have a breakdown among the lilac bushes they wandered by. He opened his mouth to beg her forgiveness, but she beat him to speaking again.
“Whoever she is, she’s a really lucky girl.”
“I’m so sorry, Caroline…”
She shook her head. “Don’t be. Like I said, we were familiar—we weren’t meant to be. And that’s okay. Just do me a favor?”
“Yeah?”
“If she’s nearly as amazing as I’ve seen by the look in your eyes…don’t let her go.”
James’s throat was white hot hearing Caroline’s request. And before he could stop himself, he spoke the truth about himself for the first time in what seemed like a hellishly long while. “I’m gay, Caroline.”
She nodded, taking this in. A jogger passed them, and some kids up ahead where tossing around a frisbee. It was a silence where James realized his world forever changed and yet, hadn’t changed at all. No one stopped to belittle him for his sexual preference. No one praised him and trained all attention on him to learn the exact moments he understood he liked men. Or to ask him if he was the top or the bottom. Life merely went on because it didn’t matter.
“It’s not anything I ever…imagined would happen to me. But I can’t…deny it, even as much as I’ve been trying to.”
“You have to be who you are.”
He nodded, his eyes moistening. “That doesn’t make it right what I did.”
“But you’re making right on it now,” she said simply. “James, I don’t care if you’re gay. If you want to wear a rainbow flag and march in a pride parade, just make sure you’re wearing the nicest rainbow flag you can get your hands on. What would have hurt more is if you had married me knowing you’re gay.”
James took her words in carefully, feeling foolish for how he’d been acting. He’d hurt two people. And this one was being so good to him; he wanted to cry. He choked on words, cursing himself for how he’d been throughout all of this.
As if reading the heavy thoughts on his mind, Caroline took her former fiancé’s hand in hers. Her own eyes damp. “It’s okay.”
And then the tears did come. It was then they stopped, and Caroline hugged him close. She rubbed his back to shush him, but it was no use. So they stood for a moment longer until he gathered himself together enough to stand alone. And when both were free of their tears, they laughed at the ridiculous scene they were making.
“So what happens now?” He dabbed his eyes.
Caroline smiled. “You go to your man.”
***
My weekend was unremarkable, marked in time by the lyrics of Stevie Nicks. It was amazing how I could have so much to say when some of the lyrics fit so well. Until the weekend just passed me by, with only my pages to show for it. My mind filled with the words of Stevie, understanding how much pain she must have endured at times. Reliving my own pain with the memories of the man I love.
“I look at you, and I start to cry… For what it’s worth.” “I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me.” “And I miss you now. I have so many questions about love and about pain. About strained relationships.” “Was it freedom by choice or, baby, was it love?” “Or a life already lived before in eyes welled with tears?” “Two in love should confess and not be left alone.” “Oh, but there was a time when he called her angel. Where in the world did you come from?”
The lyrics filled me with their poetry, and in turn, my own experiences and my own wordings to recount them transmitted to the pages. All of them things I wanted to say to James, if only to see if it’d make a difference. All the while knowing enough of our realities that it wouldn’t. Because life just wasn’t fucking fair like that.
Sleep proved no better. While I might have been able to pass out at odd times, I found myself dreaming about him. The dreams didn’t make any sense, but he was always there. And each time I woke up, I found myself reaching for him. Wishing he was there.
It was so bad that, on Monday morning, I decided to go to school early, if only to get the day over with. Hardly any of the students were in the lobby went I entered the building. That was probably because, unlike me, they were able to sleep and on coast mode till the summer started. What I wouldn’t have given to be one of them; if this was love, why the hell would anyone want to feel it?
I was almost across the lobby when the door to the office opened. The principal came out, followed by James right behind him, and despite my better judgement, I had to look at him. I knew I shouldn’t have—that I was torturing myself. But he was there, and despite how stupid it sounds, I loved him.
I hung out by the built-in display cases, where the football trophies and track and field plaques and lacrosse medals were displayed in their polished glory. But my eyes were focused on the figure of James in the glass reflection, wondering if he’d bother to notice me. He didn’t.
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to change your mind, James?” The principal asked him. No sooner had the question been asked did I see the troubled look on my History teacher’s face.
Finally, he spoke, “No, sir.”
The principal nodded.
“I’d like to thank you, however, for the opportunity.” James added. His gaze fell to the floor, but the principal stared right at him. His neatly pressed charcoal suit made him look like a banker, and he studied James with the calculating stare of one.
“Why do I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me?”
James’s blue eyes met the other man. “I’m sorry to disappoint, sir. But that’s all there is.”
The principal nodded, considering this, and a moment later, he extended his hand. “Well, it’s been a pleasure, James. Truly.”
“Likewise, sir.” James offered a smile; it was half-hearted.
They shook hands, then the principal made his departure for the auditorium. I stood there a while longer, watching my former lover in the reflection and hoping he’d see me—maybe would want to talk to me. But he didn’t.
James only turned and walked the other direction.
***
I dreaded class with him. Not just because of what I felt for him but because I was still torn up about how we’d interact in the same room together, in a situation where we might have to actually talk.
That isn’t to say that I didn’t want to see him. God only knows how much joy writing about us and reliving our memories together brought me—the good ones, at least. But being near him like this only made me long for a glimmer of hope, just the way it did when I watched him talking to the principal that morning.
Reconciliation was a long shot, and I knew it wouldn’t happen. But that didn’t mean that the love in my heart wasn’t hoping just a little for a John Hughes ending where the two heroes of the film walk off into the night after realizing they can work through anything if they just stick together. And seeing him more than likely meant squashing such a fantasy. Because, sometimes, even John Hughes got it wrong.
So, I showed up early to class, and I was the second student to enter the room. James didn’t look up from the grades he was entering into the computer, and to save us both the awkwardness of getting caught watching him, I tried to focus my attention on my notebook. I drew some animals while the rest of the class filed in, ignoring the occasional feeling of being watched myself.
“Alright, folks, how’s it going today?” James called from the front of the room, his voice rushed. And I wondered if he was as nervous as I was.
A couple of students gave half-hearted grunts. It was the typical energy level for a class of seniors about to graduate. After a minute longer than necessary waiting for acknowledgement, James finally launched into his lesson.
I couldn’t focus on what he said, but my mind went over again and again how he spoke. Searching for even the slightest indication that he was as hurt as I was—searching for any nuance that he might have made a mistake about the way things ended with us. In the end, it was just exhausting; if there was any miniscule tell that he was thinking about me or looking at me, it wasn’t in his voice. So I just kept drawing, knowing it was the only comfort I had in knowing that we were only strangers now.
It broke my heart, and some moments while he taught, I wanted to cry. But the more I drew, the more I control I had in holding back any tears. I was only his student. James was only my teacher. And that was how it would be, whether I liked it or not. No wonder there were laws against this kind of pairing.
The bell rang. Everyone shuffled away. I capped my pen and stuck it behind my ear and gathered my things. But the one zippered pouch on my backpack weaseled its way open when I lifted it from the floor, spilling out some of my folders and notebooks in the process. Papers oozed from their compartments.
I bit my lip, my throat still tight. This wasn’t at all where I wanted to have a school supply malfunction. If I could just scrounge them up into a pile and worry about repacking my backpack later—in an area not so close to my ex-lover…
His hands were in my field of vision, helping me pick up some of my things from the tiled floor. I didn’t look up at him, and he didn’t speak. But James was close enough that I could hear his ragged breath, his mouth opening like there was something he wanted to say.
“Thanks,” I murmured.
He paused then, hands full of my school papers, and he stood up. I took a few extra seconds after putting together a pile of the spilled contents of my backpack. Then for the first time in a while, I looked at James Monaco directly. Feeling as hesitant as I imagined the first man to gaze upon Medusa must have felt.
James stared back, his eyes as deep as the last time I locked gazes with him. I rose slowly, and they followed me. He swallowed. A moment passed; then when it seemed like neither of us could take anymore, James looked down at the messy pile of papers and folders in his hands.
“Thanks,” I murmured again. My voice felt like a squeak.
He nodded, took a breath. Then he stole another glance at me. “It’s good to have you in class again, Dominic.”
I swallowed hard. My throat felt tighter than ever as my ears rang with his low voice. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. So, instead, I told him, “Thank you, Mr. Monaco.”
Those deep eyes locked on me again, and I couldn’t help but remember another uncomfortable moment we had. It was not so long ago when we were tightly embraced. But if that was a few weeks ago, it might as well have been centuries ago. I stared back into him, watching as he was tensed up. Was that because James still wanted me, or was it because he was still masquerading as a straight man?
I didn’t care. It didn’t change the end result of our exchange. We were teacher and student again—nothing more, nothing less. And we had chosen our paths, for better or worse. There was nowhere to go but forward, no matter how much it hurt my heart remembering the passion of that embrace and the tenderness of his touch.
Silently, James handed me the stack of my things. And just as I had once accepted his cock and then his embrace and those fleeting moments of overwhelming happiness, I took the stack from him. And left him alone in his classroom after gifting him my best effort to force a smile.
To Be Continued…
Nicks, Stevie, Campbell, Mike. “For What It’s Worth.” In Your Dreams, CD, Album Version, Reprise Records, July 11, 2011
Nicks, Stevie. “Silver Springs.” Single, Vinyl, Reprise Records, December 20, 1976
Nicks, Stevie, Nowels, Rick. “I Miss You.” Trouble in Shangri-La, CD, Album Version, Reprise Records, May 1, 2001
Nicks, Stevie. “Sable on Blonde.” The Wild Heart, Vinyl, Modern Records, June 10, 1983
Nicks, Stevie. “The Highwayman.” Bella Donna, Vinyl, Atco Records and Modern Records, July 27, 1981
Petty, Tom. “I Will Run to You.” The Wild Heart, Vinyl, Modern Records, June 10, 1983
Nicks, Stevie, Nowels, Rick. “Ooh My Love.” The Other Side of the Mirror, CD, Modern Records, May 30, 1989
Thanks for reading pls vote or comment