Book 1 FRESHMAN YEAR

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 1 THE BUDDY

It was never really my intention to punch him in front of my English teacher, but he didn't give me a choice. Why does he have to be such a fucking dick? Is it my fault that I can't see the fucking board? Is it my fault that he's just so fucking huge that I can't see a fucking thing in front of me?

Fuck! Just what I needed. Now i'm gonna get what I haven't had since seventh grade. A detention.

But let me fill you in first on what caused this thing to happen - what made that single punch change my entire life in an instant.

-------------

"Dan! Get your lazy ass out of bed. You'll be late for school!"

Urgh. That voice. I've been hearing that voice for the fifteen years of my existence. I would recognize that voice anywhere.

"Come down now, honey, or me and Steph'll just have to let you eat the dishes." she called out with a sing-song voice.

"Yeah, mom. I'll be there in 15."

So, I got out of bed and glanced at something that was poking my boxers. Shit. The worst thing that happens to me in the morning is to find out that I've got a fucking boner...and...knowing that time is not a luxury I can afford. But this morning, I was in luck! I glanced at my bedside table. My clock says I still have 40 minutes before the bus arrives.

Whoohoo!

Taking a long, hot shower is definitely the best way to start my mornings. With the warm water cascading over my stiff muscles (oh yes, including THAT long, tubular, type of fleshy muscle - especially THAT long, tubular type of fleshy muscle) and the hot, heady steam filling my lungs, it's as if nothing wrong could possibly happen.

How wrong was I.

Turning the shower button off and stepping out of the bathroom (with my boner taken care of), I toweled myself dry.

Never really a guy who gives a damn about how he looks, I just donned the first pieces of clothing I found from my drawers. As I was facing the mirror, I stopped dressing and just stood there admiring myself.

"Hello, handsome." I just chuckled.

But, what the hell! I may not be your typical Prince Charming, but I ain't no Shrek, either. Years of swimming honed my 5 foot 6 inches frame to a lean and toned physique. Especially my back part. Girls just can't get enough of my bubble-butt.

Let me tell you that I ain't a sore in the eyes, either. Looking up, I saw my face. My light brown hair borders my cute, angelic face (What?! That's how they describe my face! I can't do anything about it!). I have a creamy complexion that doesn't look too pallid, too pale, or too tanned. And those eyes - so big, so deep, so brown. These characteristics gave people the impression that I am a couple of years younger than my real age.

"Really? You're too cute to be fifteen!" that's what I usually hear. But I never really cared. Being cute is good, right?

Looking up again, I studied my face more closely. I do this every single day since I started High School. I always look for signs of...well, let's say...maturity. Same brown eyes. Same cute, little, button nose. Same long, wavy, brown hair - covering both eyes and ears partially. Same everything.

I smiled at myself. Yep, same old blinding white, perfect teeth. Hey! I'm not being conceited or anything, but, if there is one thing that I am most proud of, it would be my smile. People say it's infectious. Being infectious is good, right?

I sighed and again looked over at my clock. Shit. Gotta hurry up.

I started dressing up. First, I pulled my three year old boxer shorts on and adjusted my manhood inside. I know, I know. Three years of using the same old boxers?! Seriously?!

Well...Fuck you! This single piece of garment was a gift. A very special gift. The only gift, in fact, that I got from my dad ever since he and my mom separated. I have only met him twice. Once, on my 7th birthday, and the most recent, three years ago - when he gave me his old boxer shorts for my Christmas present. So, don't tell me crap about my underwear. That fucking underwear means so fucking much to me.

"Daniel Christopher Mockins, do I need to send a SWAT Team for a Retrieval Operation to get your ass down here in the kitchen, like, RIGHT NOW?"

I immediately got pulled back to reality.

"Okay, okay. I'm coming! Geesh!"

I put on tight-fitting jeans and a white tank-top that both accentuated my bum and my well defined upper torso, topped it with a sweater to keep the November temperature down, and put on a pair of sneakers. I sprayed on some cheap cologne, got my bag and my Harbor Ravens baseball cap, and was out of my bedroom, down the stairs, and into the kitchen where my 35 year old mother and 13 year old sister awaits.

"Finally!" My mom exclaimed dramatically with both her hands thrown up in the air.

"We thought you died in the shower." my sister added.

"HA-HA. Very funny." I said as a sat down. "Let's just eat, shall we?"

Only my mom and Stephanie knows about my sexuality. I have accepted the fact that I was gay when I was 12. It was during those preteen jack-off sessions where I realized that I get more turned on when looking at a thick, juicy, veiny cock rather than a gaping, wet, sloppy pussy. I knew then.

Revealing myself to my mom was a very tough decision to make. First, I didn't know how she will react. I considered the possibility of being disowned and thrown out into the cold, heartless streets of the city. I also thought about it's effects on my not-so-social social life. I can't afford to be the town's laughing stock, not to mention becoming every fucking homophobe's punching bag.

One random evening, I just told my mom everything. I wasn't prepared for her reaction. But, she just stopped cutting her vegetables, stood up, walked towards me, and hugged the shit out of me! I was shocked. She told me that she was very proud of me, and that she admired my bravery and honesty and even asked me why it took me this long to confess.

What shocked me more was when she said that she might have always known, maybe even before I have added one and one and concluded that I was gay. That was really a special day for me. It was as if a very heavy weight was lifted off of my shoulders.

Telling my younger sister about my heart's dirty, little secret was easier than I thought. I expected her to be a total Diva and act all homophobic towards me. But, no! I told her and she just said, "So? Can I do anything about it?", and returned to reading her fashion magazine.

Life was good.

At least.

I downed my toast, egg and bacon with warm milk, brushed my teeth, gathered my things, and was out of the door before the bus stopped by. After about thirty seconds of waiting. it arrived. I got on and immediately headed for the farthest seat at the back.

Only one guy was sitting there, smiling cheekily at me. This may be weird, on different circumstances, for I didn't really have many friends and am not really a popular kid in school, but it isn't. He smiled and I finally reached him.

"How're you, buddy?" The guy said and raised his knuckles, to which I countered with a fist bump.

Oh, yeah, that guy i'm telling you about is my very hot, very gorgeous best friend, Keith Princeton.

I sat beside Keith and just replied with a simple "Never better.", and looked out the window.

Sitting beside Keith every day, I have memorized even the minutest detail of his perfect body. He has this extremely jet-black hair that's cut short on the sides and a bit longer on top. His large, green, seductive eyes makes you want to grant every wish he commands. His nose was the most elegant-looking nose that I have ever seen. Even his jaw muscles flex every time he speaks. A thick muscular neck connects his handsome head to very broad muscular shoulders. The tight black shirt he wore does not hide his meaty pectorals. I know for a fact that he has started to grow some hair on his chest. Lucky bastard! Just below his tight, flat stomach lies a trail of silky dark hair that leads you to a very prominent bulge that -

"Danny?" The voice brought me back to the bus. I looked up and saw that Keith was looking at me, an inquisitive look on his face. "Are you okay? What are you looking at?" He said, looking consciously down to his feet.

"What? Uhmm...Yeah, i'm fine." I stuttered. I was pretty sure I was blushing. This is one of those times when I wanted the earth to just open up and swallow me alive. "Uhmm...nothing. I was just...looking at your...uhmm...your shoes. Yeah, I was looking at your shoes." I lied. "You're a size 12, right?"

"Oh. Yeah, right." he smiled a cocky grin. Shit. Did he see me looking at his crotch? "Well...okay." he was still smiling.

"What?" I asked. Feeling self-conscious.

"Oh, nothing..." then for a few minutes later, "So, what do you think about me and Baseball?"

"What about it?" I noticed the sudden change of subject.

"Well, should I go for it? It isn't too late to try out, right?" there was a serious look on his face now.

I sighed. Here we go again. This topic has been discussed a million times over the span of three months since September, when classes started.

"Keith, Keith, Keith...how many times do I have to say that it's okay? It's great, really. You should go for it. That's what you've always wanted, right? To play for our school?" he just nodded. "Well, there's no need to think twice. You..." I raised my right hand, "and Baseball..." I raised my left one, "are destined for eternity." I then let my hands kiss each other and made loud, smooching noises.

"Fuck you." he chuckled and punched me lightly on the shoulder.

"Try if you can." He looked at me and gave me a confused glare. I immediately regretted the words that came out of my mouth. I can feel my cheeks burning up.

"What I mean is...you should try it, Keith. Baseball has been your favorite ever since primary school. Damn! You've been playing the sport since you were ten or something."

"Well...if you put it like that. Okay. But...what about you, Danny?" he asked with a sad face, "You've always told me that I should swim with you. That we would swim together."

That was true. Ever since we learned how to swim, we've sworn to each other that when we reach High School we would try out for the swim team, we'd then compete, and we'd win. It really hurt me that first time when Keith said that he'd try out for the baseball team, instead. But, I understood him. Baseball is what he wants. Who am I to stop him from his dreams?

"Keith..." I started, trying to keep a straight, yet passionate face, "I understand, completely. It's okay. I mean, even though you'll be in the Baseball team and me in the Swim team...we'd still be best friends, right?" I asked hopefully, with my tears threatening to fall. "Right?"

He sighed and looked at me. "Danny, I will never stop being your best friend. No matter what. You'll always be mine, and I'll be yours. Do you understand that?"

I just nodded. A single tear rolled down my face.

"Good."

And we shared the bus ride in silence. I wish he'd still want to be friends with me if he would know the only secret that I've been keeping from him.

*End of Chapter 1*

 

Nerdy Jock

[email protected]

Top


Rate Story Choose rating between 1 (worst) and 10 (best).

Bookmark and Share

blog comments powered by Disqus