Hey everyone on here! I know it's been a while since I have put up something, but I decided to put together a new kind of style for me on here. It's more novelesque, because I plan on making this a series unlike my first set of stories. I'm working on a real novel (not a sex one is a better way to phrase it), music, and I am getting ready to go back to school, and working, so please be patient with me. Like I said, I really like it when people in the college-age group talk to me through email, so we can talk out any problems that people our age go through with our sexuality and life in general. I have a great pen pal in Lattimore on here (who also writes some good stories). So here we go, leave comments for me to let me know if you like it, or if you don't. You guys help me improve my work. Also, I do not own any music referenced, any university mentioned, or anything of the nature.

We Weren't Even Friends

Chapter 1

The New Kid in Town

Hi. My name is Kenneth Quinn. I just arrived here,right outside of State College, Pennsylvania. I picked this place because I think it would be a really understanding place, considering the university is so nearby. I guess that you want to learn more about me. I'm 6 foot and 1 inch tall, very proud about the one extra inch, have hazel and yellow eyes,and wavy blonde hair. Everything about my body is fairly slim, slim nose, chin, body type, but it is all muscle, well except for my thick cut cock. Think Alex Pettyfer in his teenager days. Every bit of my body has been earned through working out, or through work. I just turned 18 years old last week and had the blessing to "move out" of my home. Enough about that though. I now have my own apartment which should be new, a chance for me to be myself. And it's anything I could ask for really. A decent-sized living room, a nice kitchen, which I need because I have an unhealthy obsession with cooking, a bedroom with a walk-in closet, and a bathroom. The rest of the apartment is kind of small, but who cares, it's home now. I have been working under the table and with a different identity since I was fifteen years old, so I could earn some money to buy things for myself, so I have nice things. Things that I have earned through hard work... Sounds great doesn't it? I have a really nice chunk of change for college when the time comes and I am able to furnish this apartment, which naturally looks like it could use some help and make it look really nice. I start to unpack all of the boxes from my car, a 2001 Honda Civic, which is not a bad car for a kid my age, and go inside. I find a perfect place for everything it seems like, and since the apartment is furnished, I just had to find things to fill it with. I can't really say that there isn't really a moment I have been happier with myself. I'm sure you are done hearing me brag about my apartment, you really don't know too much about who I really am. I guess I come off as the aloof, quiet kid. I'm really not one to talk all of the time, well at least, initiate the conversation. I just like to do my own thing. I don't really play sports, which kind of isolated me from all of the girls in my old school and the whole cooking thing didn't really help my reputation. I got called a "fag" or "kitchen bitch". Such creative nicknames... and I'm not even gay. I just haven't been able to find the right girl who understands the things I have been through and every time I open up, people seem horrified. They're scared of my past, afraid to see through the fact that the person they are interested in being with has been through things, which results in me having "too much baggage." If I felt that way, I would focus on myself, on making myself better. As I even think about how people are, I get a tear of anger. Damn it. Why don't people understand? Whatever, people suck, maybe this place is different. Just time for me to go to sleep. I put the news on.

"On today's news, the boy who recently woke up from a coma in Maple Heights, gives a speech about increasing LGBT awareness in schools across the country..."

~~~New Point of View (POV)~~~

"Oh Mike, I'm about to cum, fuck that pussy. Ahhh!" a beautiful blonde hair girl screamed with a loud orgasm..

"Ah. Ah. Ah Ahhhhh!!!!" the boy screamed back as he came inside his condom, the boy's 9 inch dick still leaking after an intense mind-blowing orgasm.

"That was awesome," he said as he kissed the blonde hair beauty while pulled the condom off and threw it in the trash can.

"You're so hot," the girl said as she kissed his neck.

"Give yourself a bit of credit," Mike said.

Although, she is a bit right. I am quite hot, not to be conceited. I'm six foot three. I have short brown hair, styled perfectly, deep blues eyes, muscular jaw line, and a wide muscular build, broad shoulders, tight chest, to slender six pack abs, all free of hair, to the nice ass, and muscular calves and thighs. I'm one of those people that girls dream to be with and guys crave to be. Once again not to be conceited. Oh, the name's Mike. Michael McDevitt. And there is nothing better in the morning than to know that a girl is going to be slobbing all over your 9 inch knob and is always down to fuck. And that girl I was just fucking. She's Stephanie Wales, the hottest girl in school. We're pretty much boyfriend and girlfriend, but we really don't want to make it official because college is coming up for the both of us soon, and well, who knows whether or not we are going to find something better? I sure as hell don't. I decide to get up and take a shower and she's right behind me. I have my own bathroom in my room, so my parents don't really have to see what goes on, although they don't really care as long as we stay safe. They have always been that way, as long as I remember. We couldn't be a happier family. We are all happy, all well off, and every bit together as we can be. We go in the shower together and wash each others' bodies, slow and sensually as I rub Stephanie's boobs. Surprisingly, I'm not hard, I don't really understand, all of my fantasies start in my head and my eyes have to be shut for that to happen. Call it a tick, call it whatever, I still get the job done in the end. We wash the soap off of our hot, young bodies and dry off. I put on a tight black v-neck shirt., dark blue jeans, and the pair of my black and blue sneakers, eat some pancakes with the family and Steph and we are walking to school. we walk hand-in-hand, passing by some of the college kids on their way to class. I can't wait to go to school, even though it's right nearby, I can't wait. For the life, for the future, for success. We walk into the school, which I seemed to have owned for the past year and a half, ever since I moved here. I play football in the fall, wrestle in the winter, and play soccer in the spring. I also manage to work with the some of the academic and drama clubs, which I have been the lead for every musical and play since I arrived. I am one of "those kids". I do everything I can, because you never know where life is going to take you. Personality-wise, I guess I am kind of an asshole, for plenty of reasons I don't really want to open up to. My life has not always been this nice. The people who I have replaced who were once captains of the things I am now captain of always call me the rich perfect douchebag. But, most people try to clamor by my side and be my friend and I am always more than obliged to do so. The asshole in me comes out if you're an asshole to me.

"Hey Mike, how's it going, buddy?" my friend Brandon asked me, as he put his arm around me.

"Hey! You scared me, you ass," I said with a smile, while Steph laughed.

"That's what I was going for," he said with that dorky smile.

Brandon has always been one of my best friends. He plays tennis and is in the drama clubs with me. He's skinny and muscular, with spiked blonde hair, and bright green eyes, and stands at 5 foot ten. He wears designer clothes, has both of his ears pierced with real diamond studs.He's always pretty bubbly and I don't think I have ever seen him really sad. And everybody's friend. He's a genius too, valedictorian of our class, a genuinely sweet kid. Surprisingly, terrible with the ladies. You would think he would better, but oh well, not everybody is, luckily, he doesn't need to be. Girls love him. We are all walking together when we see a kid with a school map and a black backpack in the middle of the hall. He's wearing a right lime-green polo, white wash jeans, and a pair of boat shoes. This isn't exactly the beach. And he looks really pensive. Probably just another new professor's prick child.

"Hey, do you guys know where the office is?" as he directs the question at me with a glare. Why is he looking at me like that?

~~Kenneth's POV~~

God, this guy looks like a total asshole. V-neck shirt, girl draped around his shoulder. Best friend third wheeling behind. I'm already judging people and I've been here for three seconds. Just answer my question, or better yet, I should be nicer.

"Sorry guys. I'm new here, and well, I'm a little nervous, and I need to go register for my classes," I said with a smile.

"Oh," is all the asshole can say.

"Do you know what?" I'll take you there. I guess Mike here forgot what it's like to be the new kid around here. He had the same lost look as you did when he first walked in," the blonde haired kid said with a glare at Mike.

"See you later, Brandon," Mike said as he glared at me again. Jeez, this kid must hate me.

"Like he said, I'm Brandon. Brandon Stills. And you?" he said with a genuine smile, while holding his hand out. He's so friendly. And he just met me.

"Kenneth Quinn. Just call me Ken though," I said as I shook his hand.

"It's a pleasure. So where do you come from?" he asked.

"A bit of everywhere. I've been moved around a lot," I say.

"Oh, that has to suck, man. I've been a townie here all of my life. Wouldn't change it though. I love it here. We all have love for the university and it brings the community together," he says.

He talks and talks and talks and talks. I guess it is nice.

"So here's the office, friend, actually I'll go in with you, work some stuff out," he says.

"It's nice to know I have a friend already. Haha, but don't you have class?" I ask.

"Yeah, kind of, but I'm so far ahead it's not even funny. It'll be fine," Brandon says with a laugh.

I walk up to the desk to find a nice middle-aged woman with red hair at the desk. She looks at Brandon, then at me with a smile.

"Hello Brandon, and hello to you too. How can I help you today?

"Hello Aunt Maddie, this is my friend Kenneth Quinn and he is here to register for classes," he says while never stopping that smile of his.

"Ken Quinn, pleasure to meet you," I say with a smile.

"Mrs. Brandywine, I'll get the counselor to help you pick some classes. I've heard about how smart you are. You'll be a great fit here," she says with a familiar smile. I guess it runs in the family.

We get everything pretty much settled. I'm in all advanced classes, including cooking, and I have one class that's left unsettled that I have to audition for. I'm auditioning for the "best choir in the school" as Brandon calls it. I guess I'm pretty musically talented. I play the piano, guitar, and am working on the harp as well, but I keep the instruments to myself. I own a nice keyboard and my beloved green electric guitar, but I never tell people I play because you never know when you need to impress somebody with a surprise.

"So you're in a lot of the same classes as me. Nice going! Didn't know you were so smart! Now we have to see if you can sing," Brandon says as he pretty much pulls me in the hallway.

"We'll see," I say with a sly grin.

"You know, it's really fucking hard to get in there, just to let you know. Especially if it is somebody who moves here. There's only been one other person who has ever made it in here midyear over the past ten years," Brandon said with a frown.

We open up the choir room doors, and everyone turns around to see me. I see Mike and the girl he was with earlier, but the person standing up front is who I am scared of. He looks so young, but once you get past his youthful appearance, you see a serious scowl. He is about 35 after much speculation and his baritone voice seems to bellow throughout the room. Short black hair, neatly styled, dark brown eyes, slim build, but you can see athleticism.

"And who might you be, just walking in this room, during my choir class?" he said as he gets up and walks around me.

I'm pretty fucking scared now, but I guess I can't turn around now. I see Mike glaring at me, almost smirking.

"I'm... here to audition," I say shaking.

"Oh really, to audition, you do know..." he starts to say what Brandon has told me.

"That only one other person has gotten in this choir when trying to join midway through the year. Yes," I say feeling a little more confident.

"Exactly. And that person was me" a voice says as he stands up. It's Mike. "So why even try and audition, I mean there has been a ton of kids who have tried this," he says cockily.

"Sit down Michael, we let people audition, if he fits the bill, we will let him in. But we will not let anybody not audition. Here, pick a song from this packet. We are working on a popular music concert right now. You'll recognize something, pick one, belt it out, but first do warm-ups with someone. By, the way, I'm Mr. Mathers, you are?" he asks as he loosens his scowl.

"Ken. Ken Quinn," I say back, lowering my guard a bit.

"Well, tenor or bass, Mr. Quinn?" he asks again.

"I can do both, but I'll audition for tenor," I say confidently as I hear Mike scoff again.

"Well then, since Brandon brought you in, you can be his partner," he says as he pats Brandon on the shoulder.

We go through some of the most rigorous voice warm-ups I have ever done in my life. I'm able to keep up with them and Brandon seems to be in shock with my voice. He looks to be struggling to keep up with me. I don't really think that I am that good, but I hear Mike's voice from across the room. His voice is fantastic and you can hear that he is trying to make his presence known to me. I stay low in volume, just to keep my voice intact for the audition I have to do. I'm flipping through the music to find a song I would like to audition with, but it requires a duet. "Lucky" by Jason Mraz with Colbie Calliat. My backup is "The Reason" by Hoobastank, but I would much rather sing Jason Mraz.

"So, the time has come, Ken, which song will you sing for us?" Mr. Mathers asks me with a smile.

"I would like to sing 'Lucky', but I would need a girl to duet with me," I say.

"Are you trying to have a girl with talent help influence the decision I will have to make?" he says with a smirk.

"No. In fact, it makes it more challenging for me. I not only have never heard these girls sing to me, I will have to accommodate my voice to theirs. This song proves I can hold my own sometimes, while the ability to have my voice harmonize with another," I say with confidence.

"Good response," he says with a chuckle, as I see Mike fuming from the ears

"Now, who will be willing to join me and let me prove my worth?" I say to the class.

 

James Knoll

[email protected]

Top


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

Bookmark and Share

blog comments powered by Disqus