Being exposed to the seedy side of town came the night of graduation. Me and my high school buds decided we needed to find the adult clubs, bars, and bookstores, even if we were too young to get inside. We'd talked about it forever. Our hormones placed us in a tough spot, and had for so long we could no longer make excuses why we didn't go to town.

The guys I went to school with were full of jokes, suggestive ideas, and swagger, making intelligent solutions unlikely and bad solutions all the more powerful. We crammed ourselves into Barney's Honda Civic and the five of us were on our way to the only salvation boys are convinced will make a man out of them.

Once in town, we drove from street to street identifying each seedy establishment we felt suitable for our purpose. These were the places that offered suitable answers to our unsuitable pursuits. There was no more pretense about any of us being nice boys, but those doubts were cast aside long before graduation night. Our crotches tightened in anticipation.

"I'd like to give it to her," John said in a raw hoarse suggestive voice, tugging at his jeans.

"With that little thing you got," Bobby blurted from the front seat. "She'd never know you did her."

"Bigger than yours, asshole," John retorted, "You can't even get it up."

"Shut up," Bobby said, always coming up on the short end of his jests.

"My dicks so hard I'm going to split open my fly," Barney bragged. "We got to do something or I've got to jack-off."

"Don't you ever get tired of doing it with yourself?" Jordan asked.

"Hell no. Someone's got to do it. You volunteering to take the load off me? Wouldn't be the first time you took it out of my hands."

"My dance card is full," Jordan answered, watching for signs of hot women, while ignoring his checkered past. "Look at that. Man, I'd like to…."

"Man is right, Jordy my innocent lad. It's a guy," John explained.

"A guy? You kidding me? Look at the rack on her."

"It's a drag queen," John said with certainy. "It's a boy pretending he's a girl to get his hand on your whoha."

"How the hell can you tell?" Barney asked, turning his head to get a closer look.

"He's got a dick and he needs a shave. If you can't tell the boys from the girls you got a problem."

"You can't tell," Jordan said.

We turned to follow the flashy looking girl as she moved down the sidewalk, turning heads as she walked. Cars in front and in back of us slowed to a crawl. She increased the wiggle in her hips. Boys cried in pain all along her walk.

We finally got up nerve to park the car to get a closer look. For this we found ourselves being insulted and laughed at by bouncers galore. Store clerks at the most delectable shops were way too big to argue with, as they waved frantically to turn us around at the door. We barely got a sniff of anything the least bit perverted.

You might call it a fact finding mission. Most of my buddies were put off by being called wet behind the ears, seriously age challenged, and too young to hold up our end of any bargain we might strike up.

Being called weenies by a woman my buds had decided to approach to see what it would cost for blowjobs all around, took the wind out of our sails and sent us back to the car and the quiet ride home. Bobby being second oldest to John still looked thirteen and no lady of the night was going to take us on for the $17.09 we had between us.

At 18 they were going to give it one last shot. It was customary for me to lay back when any discussion of sexual contact came up with girls. There was safety in numbers in this case, but they knew I wasn't all that cool with explicit suggestions. It kept the truth about me off the table.

They came home discouraged about their immediate prospects in the adult entertainment world, but my interest was far more focused than theirs. I'd waited about half my life to be able to go downtown alone. First I wanted some idea of what I was looking for and now I had a general outline of where I might find it.

Periodically I was drawn back to the city alone, not wanting anyone to know I needed the affection of another man, and being determined to get it. This couldn't be a dive right in kind of thing. I had to go there to be there before I could go there to get down to business.

I was thought to be the shy one throughout high school. Once we'd gone through puberty, I was least likely to get out of my jeans. My four closest buddies had circle jerks, while I sat them out, watching the proceedings from nearby, while pretending I wasn't. No one thought anything of it. My problem wasn't being shy it was being so hard in anticipation of my buddies exposure, I didn't want anyone to suspect me of liking such things more than seemed natural. Shy worked.

John was Mr. Lusty, with little time needed for him to stand up and be counted. Jordan was most likely to get naked. Bobby kept on his underwear and worked through his fly. He was bigger than John or Jordan, but it flopped and swung with little progress to be made.

Barney was the big man on campus. When he said he might bust open his fly, it was no joke. We were all amazed by the Barney salami that got way out in front of the rest of us before we were even in the competition. By junior high school we weren't the only ones to be amazed.

Gym class became where Barney found out he was a star. Other boys were mesmerized by what had sprouted between his legs. All of them dreamed of being so well represented in the meat department. For Barney it was an immediate source of income as well as the thrill of having someone's hand other than his own on it.

It was difficult for his closest buds to think anything of it when he volunteer to present it to anyone who wanted a private showing. Some had heard about it and wanted to see for themselves and others had seen for them selves and wanted to cop a feel. This was high finance in junior high.

He went through a period early on when a pack of cigarettes would get a boy a feel. His fame spread fast once show and tell became touch and yank. Usually before we went home we'd wait for him as he collected change and cigarettes with a money back guarantee if it was found to be less than it was cracked up to be.

I was the only one in the group who didn't take him up on the offer to feel it for free, a special he claimed was only for his best buds. Size meant nothing to me. Had it been Jordan or Bobby, I'd have stood in line, but not Barney.

Jordan was hot and Bobby was sexy as hell. Even John had a way about him, but Barney was all dick and no sex appeal. His dick was the only thing he had going for him, and it made straight guys envy him, but I wasn't straight.

I was careful not to let my friends know that boys were way more exciting to me than the girls they mooned about. The fact I'd never taken Barney up on any of his invitations made me even less suspect than they were, even if I didn't question that they were all straight and horny for girls.

Our many nights of looking for satisfaction were far more satisfying for me than it was for them. No matter how it ended I had something in mind I could take home with me. I can't say if any of my friends got as much from our quests as I did.

Being in school meant not exposing my true feelings to guys I played ball with and showered with. While I had a reputation of being shy, I had no reputation as being timid. I found rugby at sixteen, giving up football to play. This was a club sport with college age guys being the best players. I could hold my own in a scrum and the feel of unpadded bodies rubbing against mine was right up my alley. Rugby became my passion.

Rugby was a man's sport played by men's men and players didn't hesitate getting their hands all over you as bodies galore meshed in a glorious mass of men. Having this man to man contact meant I'd found my game, until I was older and could look for love, sex, or some other relief for the now constant ache in my cock.

At this time my journey through life couldn't be put into words. It was more response by sixteen than anything concrete. I became erect at the drop of a hat. I'd relate it to applying the electricity to a pair of dead frog's legs to make the legs jump. I jumped at a touch, a sight, or even the thought of a man's body against mine in a passionate pose.

Pain didn't register in my world and I never got tired. My life was an empty book and like most sixteen year olds, I was invulnerable. Sixteen was a magic age, when I was ripe for anything, while everything was a still a mystery to me. Going with the flow of the world around me was easiest.


*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

When I made the decision to head for town, my need to be close to where guys went to find sex was peaking again. At least I wanted to be where you could imagine some vulgar episode that would mark the trip a success. Most of the time the talk, ambition, the descriptions my friends gave me were enough to energize a major desire for release. Then there were the times I left them behind, because they restrained me. Being by myself meant being available for some advance in my desire to be with a man.

When with my buds, I rarely needed to move any suggestive ideas along, when John or Jordan would be itching, scratching, tugging at the passion fruit they'd awakened by their own words.

Barney always drove, maintained his place of privilege by virtue of being the first of us to reach puberty, and doing it in a big way. It was before watching other boys examining what they had no hope of possessing went out of vogue. In those days he could make enough change to send us to the arcade or Burger King. None of us questioned his mode of making money.

Once we reached high school, no one would dare admit they had some interest in the Barney salami. I'd heard rumors, but I listened for rumors. 'Have you seen it?' one boy would say confidentially to another. 'No, have you?' I knew if they had or hadn't by how the described what they did or didn't see.

If I was bolder I'd have approached one of Barney's admirers to strike up a bargain of our own, but all my friends had taken a turn giving Barney a hand. We kept it between us and no one thought it was all that unusual, since boys who weren't even aquainted with him wanted to touch it. It meant nothing and I was glad I knew it before I made a fool of myself and got outed for daring to suggest something lusty with another boy.

If I'd been interested in Barney my life would have been far easier. My opinion is he only stopped letting us watch him collect the admiration of other boys. Barney always had money and never expressed a constant need for pleasure in the way John and Jordan often would.

I had high hopes, but little safe outlets for what was on my mind. My undercover interests were best kept that way, along with the same empty feeling inside as my buds. It was these feelings that took me out on a search to relieve my loneliness. This had to be done alone. Once I planned a look see, I lied to keep my friends in the dark.

I had no way of knowing what it would take to satisfy my neediness. My buddies called it mischief, when we went together. I was looking to get into mischief and let go of my lust and craving for some kind of contact with another man that I wasn't able to imagine. I'd heard all about lust and passion but my searches required walking on the dark side.

Whatever it was called, I was convinced I needed to be where I might get the itching in my crotch scratched. It wasn't something I could explain or ask for, but we all came to this part of town for the same reason. Oh, I wouldn't come until my buds had other plans, and then I could beg off, knowing it wasn't possible to run into them.

I suppose the search was part of the excitement, the fear, the unknown result that might clarify what I was after. I knew generically what I was after, but no specific information on precisely what it would take to get the job done. I envisioned intoxication, a setting free of some desire, a fire that was always burning that I might finally be able to put out for at least a short time before it began to burn again.

I suspected this by my experiences in masturbation. Once I got relief it was enough satisfaction to quell the hunger. It felt good and I got to control it all, but there was no doubt in my mind that having another way, not of my own doing, this was going to be far more satisfying. It was my theory.

It took a few months after my first trip into the city for me to get up enough courage to return on my own. At first it was once a month or when the mood came upon me, but it was something I did more often as time passed. Each time I was more determined to find it.

My life in the suburbs left me feeling more and more empty. No matter what I did, how busy I stayed, it wasn't enough to keep my mind off my aching cock. There had to be more and I intended to find it.

Lately I needed to make the attempt weekly. There had to be more to keep a young man excited by his life. I was determined to find fulfillment. Once I made up my mind to go, my gut churned for the rest of the week, until I crossed into the city.

I didn't necessarily like what it made me feel or my imagination for furnishing shadowy images that came to offer me the unsavory answer that troubled my dreams. I wasn't certain what I felt or what would satisfy my appetite, but I kept on looking. Each time I went on my quest I was more bold than the previous time. Maybe this time I'd stop moving to see what happened. Maybe this time I'd get up the nerve to speak to someone that looked interesting.



Send Rick an email at quillswritersrealm@yahoo.com

On to Chapter Two

Back to the Forward

Chapter Index

Rick Beck Home Page

"Walking Into Clouds" Copyright © 2009 - 2010 OLYMPIA50. All rights reserved.
    This work may not be duplicated in any form (physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the author's written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply. All individuals depicted are fictional with any resemblance to real persons being purely coincidental.

Home Page | Authors | Christmas Stories | Stories by the Writer Suggested Reading | Suggested Viewing | Links Privacy Policy | Terms of Service Send a Comment All Site Content © 2003 - 2024 Tarheel Writer unless otherwise noted Layout © 2003 - 2024 Tarheel Writer