We worked all morning, took a break for lunch, and worked all afternoon on getting the rough draft written on the computer. I think better on a keyboard, so I typed while Dave sort of dictated and kept track of all the stuff we wanted in the paper, the things we wanted to say. We discovered that the outline we had made didn't work the way we thought it would, so we had to rearrange a few sections. We managed to finish a very good rough draft by suppertime. We took a break for some stuff to eat with my sisters and then went back to work. By ten that night I was wiped, and so was David. But the paper was nearly written, and even in the rough draft form I knew it was "A" level work. I just knew it. Dave needed to get home, because relatives were arriving early the following morning for the beginning of Passover, and he sort of needed to help at home.

When Davey and I part, we do the palm-to-palm thing, and clasp the hands between our chests and with the left arms sort of hug each other and smack each other on the backs. You've seen guys do this hundreds of times on sports teams and on television, even if I'm not describing the motion very well. That night, I held onto him in the clasp, and drew him close so I could whisper in his ear.

"No shame!" I whispered.

"No bud, no shame!" he whispered back.

I drew back to look in his eyes, "Sure?" I asked

"Positive!" he whispered back.

I hugged him again, tighter that time, and he left.

I went back to my room and in spite of being really tired I started working on my French essay on de La Rochefoucauld, then my chemistry notebook and some other school stuff. It seems like it never ends, ya know? Also, I wrote a bit of this story while the events of the weekend were fresh in my mind.

Did I mention that David and I see each other in school all the time, and we have three classes together, and eat lunch together? We also eat with Meghan and Joselyn on some days. Meghan had been acting pissed off about not being taken out Friday or Saturday nights, and I have learned that if one girl in a group of friends is pissed off, she works at it until all the other girls in the group are pissed off too, it's like they stir each other up, so I was betting David was getting shit from Joselyn as well. Girls don't seem to understand that guys need to be with just guys sometimes. It's not just the jacking off either, so don't go there, but the feeling of being with other guys and not have to watch every little thing that comes out of your mouth, and worrying if the girl is going to take something the wrong way. It's hard to explain. Maybe not all guys feel like that, I don't know. I just know that David and I are happy in each other's company, and Ethan told me once he'd rather be with Hank sometimes than with JoAnne. Ethan and Hank are friends like Davey and me are friends. No, I don't know if they jerk off together! God, the things you want to know! But it might be fun to find out, because like I told you every girl in school thinks Ethan is the cutest boy in North Carolina. You know what the girls call nights when just the guys are together? "Sausage parties." Yep!

Breakfast on Monday morning was oatmeal, because that's what Beth felt like eating, and in our house at meal times there are two choices, "take it" or "leave it." Mom says she doesn't operate a restaurant, so if you want to eat in our house, be at the table at the standard meal times and eat what she's made. This rule also carries over to those times when Mom is away, and one of the girls are cooking. Take it or leave it. I think this is reasonable, and my Mom is such a great cook I try not to miss too many meals. But oatmeal isn't one of my favorite breakfasts so I started looking around for junk to add to it. A handful of raisins and two spoons of cinnamon sugar did the trick. I ate two bowls full in fact. I didn't think it would be diplomatic to let on to Beth that I wasn't crazy about oatmeal. I was working on getting onto her good side remember!

School was school. You know how that is. Seeing Dave was the best part, like seeing him is the best part of any day. I felt kinda bad about Meghan, because I just don't think about her all that much. I mean, I do think about her and all, and I like her and everything, but I just don't think we're ever going to get off the starting line. I was kin' of thinking about Meghan, and Davey, and sex, and the two girls, and how wonderful life would be if only Meghan could lighten up a little. I was thinking about all that during review in Trig and I let my mind wander a little.

I guess Meghan and I had been going together for a few weeks, and had got to the point where we were making out after every date, before I took her home. I got more and more bold with her, and I let her know what kissin' her did to me. I stretched my legs out in my truck, and showed her the tubular bulge my hard-on was making in my pants.

"I saw pictures of erections in health," she said.

"Wanna see one for real?" I asked her.

"Jeremy, you're a pig. That's all you think about," she said. "JoAnne has a 'Playgirl' magazine and I know what boys look like."

"So, you want to see one for real?" I asked again.

"Jeremy, that really IS all you think about," she said.

"Not really," I said, "I think about other stuff."

"Not often," she said.

I leaned over and kissed her some more. I tried to feel her breast, but she clamped her arm over herself and I couldn't get a touch in.

"You stop that Jeremy!" she said. "You know I'm saving it for when I'm married."

I believed her. That's exactly the kind of shit she says too. Her parents are those weird Southern Baptist people who have this huge Bible on the coffee table, and watch Pat Robertson on TV, and are always saying weird shit like "Praise Jesus," and "Bless the Lord" every time anything happens. They're the kind of people who really believe Hurricane Katrina was the Will Of God, and that God sent it to destroy the wicked city of New Orleans. Like that asshole who preached that 9-11 happened because of homosexuals.

"You can answer me one thing though Jeremy, and that's how do boy's testicles hang in the little bag? Do they move around or are they attached? You can't tell from pictures," she asked. "I've always been curious about that I admit."

"Fuck it," I thought, "she's curious about a hell of a lot more than that!" So I undid my belt, and unzipped, all the time she's going "What are you doing?" and "You stop that right this minute!" but I kept on and I had my pants and boxers down, and was holding my hard cock in two fingers. I waved it at her.

Meghan was staring at my crotch like something was gonna jump up and bite her.

"Go ahead," I whispered, "Touch it!" I stroked it a couple of times.

She kept staring at me and after a few more seconds damn if she didn't reach over and put her hand around it!

"Oh, yeah, Meghan, move your hand up and down a little!" I said, and I grabbed her wrist and moved her hand up and down like she was jacking me off. I let go of her arm, and she let go of my cock.

"It's.....it's hard and soft at the same time!" she said. Then she looked over a little farther, and looked at my balls.

"Your testicles don't hang down like I saw in the pictures," she said.

"They do, when I'm not hard," I told her. "When I get hard they draw up and sit where they are now."

"It looks like a tennis ball sort of," she said, and she was staring down at it, and I thought "why do my balls remind everybody of a tennis ball?"

I spread my legs as far apart as I could get them, and she reached under my cock and held my sack in her hand, and rolled the balls around in it.

"They move all around!" she said.

"Yep!" I said, "They move up and down to adjust the temperature too. Sperms are very delicate!"

"Really?" she said.

"Neat huh!" I said. "Go ahead Meghan! Do what ever ya want!"

She let go of my balls and reached up and held my cock again, and moved her hand up and down a few times. But then she squeezed me when she was moving her hand on the upstroke, and I put out a lot of seminal fluid, and it got all onto her hand.

"OH GOD!" She yelled. "Jeremy! You pig! You pig! You did it all over my hand," she was wiping her hand on my pants leg and yelling all this crap, and I was trying to explain how guys make that stuff when they're hard, and that it wasn't cum, and I would never cum on her hand, but she was beyond listening.

"YOU PULL UP YOUR PANTS RIGHT NOW AND YOU TAKE ME HOME!!" she was really pissed off!

"Meghan, for chrissakes! Shut the fuck up will ya?" I was mad too. "I swear I didn't cum on your hand Meghan. I swear."

"Don't even start Jeremy, don't even start," She wouldn't listen. She held her hand out like it had dirt on it and she was keeping it off her clothes.

"God, Meghan, will you just listen!?" I yelled.

"No, you just stop and get me home!" she said.

"I'm not a pig Meghan! I swear I would never cum on you or on your hand! Jeeze!" I said.

"Oh, just shut up Jeremy. Let's go." And she was royally pissed, so I pulled my pants up and zipped and buckled back up and thought "So much for your romantic evening Jeremy!"

"Shit Meghan, how you gonna know how to please a man if y'never fool around and learn anything?" I asked her.

"I learned everything I need to learn in health class, and my husband will be a gentleman Jeremy, unlike you, and will treat me like a lady and not make demands like you do," she said.

Oh, man. That stung. I might be a pig, but I'm a pig who has nice parents, so I'm a pig with manners, and I know how to behave with girls. I mean, I didn't force myself on Meghan or anything did I?

"Yeah, right," I said, "First time the poor son of a bitch gets hard, and shows it to ya, and tells ya what he's gonna do with it, you'll be runnin' home t' mamma."

"You're a pig Jeremy. All girls aren't like those two over to the coast," she said. I must have looked dumb or something.

"Oh, yes! Oh, yes Jeremy, it's no secret! My brother saw you and David with two girls over there, all lovey dovey on the beach."

"That was just one date Meghan!" I said, "Besides....." I started to say.

"No! Not besides anything! Everybody in school knows you and David were with two hookers at Kitty Hawk. You're both disgusting," she said.

"Are you fucking crazy Meghan? They weren't hookers! Shit, I bet they're from better families than yours!" I was so mad I could hardly speak.

"Don't you start Jeremy! Just take me home."

"Your brother needs t' keep his mouth shut about stuff that doesn't concern him," I said. "And I don't give a shit if he is nineteen and bigger'n me, if he says shit like that about me and Davey again, he's dead meat."

And I took her home. Fuck it. I don't know why I let her get under my skin so much. I really like her and she kisses great, but I've never got off first base. Hell, I'm not even sure if I GOT to first base.

I did see Simon, Meghan's big brother later on. You know what? All he ever said to his sister was "Are you and Jeremy still seeing each other?" and when she was curious why he asked, all he said was "I thought I saw him and his friend David over on Kitty Hawk the other day, pretty friendly with two girls." So see how girls get worked up over nothing?

Then I got called on to complete a problem on the board, and had to get up in front of the whole class with half a hard-on. I picked up the Trig textbook and held it open in front of me, like I needed it for reference or something. God, I hate when that happens, 'cause all the guys sort of know why you're holding books in front of yourself.


On to Chapter Eight

Back to Chapter Six

Chapter Index

An Albemarle Tale is Copyright © 2007 by The Whitewater Kid
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.

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