Growing Up

16 June 2013

 The small church was sparsely occupied, most sitting a few rows from the front. Nobody sat on the front rows where the preacher could look directly down on them, make eye contact during the more pointed accusations, the sins of the church no one could escape. In the back sat the teenagers, slid down on the pews playing with their phones or passing knowing looks back and forth as the preacher slapped the pulpit or paced back and forth behind it. To them it was a show, all bravado with the usual fear mongering trying to scare them into to coming down to the alter. Sitting on the second row from the back, just out of the main circle of teenagers was Quinton. He had just turned sixteen and began to feel like part of the group. The freedom of a driver’s license and the maturing that awakened something inside of him making him feel more like a man than a child. He leaned back, butt slipped to the edge of the seat with his long legs stretched out underneath the pew in front, crossed at the ankles. Glancing at his phone he saw the preacher had only been going for ten minutes and knew he would go at least another twenty before finally bringing his sermon to a close.

It bored Quinton, the whole affair. The dogma of it and worst the rituals that were part of every service. It just made him feel weary. There was something about the space itself that made him not only weary but also fatigued, fighting sleep about half way through the sermon. The dark wood paneled walls and wood flooring, the stained-glass windows that cut the natural light penetrating the space and above, even with the white ceiling, the dim lighting, casting a yellow glow over the room. When he began to yawn, over and over, he would shift positions, sit up and lean forward resting his arms on the back of the pew in front. He never wanted to close his eyes as much as when he was sitting in the church.

He distracted himself by scanning the room to see what other people were doing. Mrs. Johnson, a widow who had been old when his family had started attending ten years before, sat rigid in her pew, facing forward with no expression whatsoever. Toward the front were the young couple who had moved into the community three months ago, the husband always showing a territorial protectiveness toward his wife, even now, his left arm resting on the pew behind her showing possession. Quinton smirked at the idea of it. Yes, his wife was attractive, but it was Jason he felt an attraction as he wondered what it would be like to make out with him. ‘What would they do?’ he wondered if he found out Jason was willing. Could he really do it he wondered as he tried to imagine it, naked with another man. It was a question he asked himself a lot in the last couple of years.

Looking across the pews he saw Mary sitting next to her parents. She was seventeen and so pious that none of the others liked her. She spoke to them with an attitude of superiority. Next to her was her brother, Elliott, who had to be twelve or thirteen by now. Quinton felt sorry for Elliott, growing up in his sister’s shadow and how his mother kept him close, currently sitting next to her. The Rowlands sat upright, always facing the preacher no matter where he stood, heads nodding at certain points, usually the most hell fire and brimstone sections of any sermon. He had overheard them praise Mary, with her straight A’s and perfect manners followed by some insinuating remark about Elliott needing to do better. How the kid took it, he wasn’t sure, but he felt empathy toward the guy. It was so obvious he was the normal one in the bunch and just couldn’t see it, not yet anyway.

He felt lucky for his parents were the typical church goers, never serious about it at home. His mother never allowed profanity in the house and would kill him if she caught him drinking, but unlike Mary’s parents, didn’t forbid him from going to school dances or going down to Gulf Shores to the beach with friends. The one thing he wasn’t so confident about was coming out to his parents. That was the one thing he had been keeping secret for a while, afraid the religious dogma of the church would force his parents to choose it over him. It was the one aspect of his life where he wished it were different, daydreamed of being able to be open about it like guys living in some city. But his small school was too conservative, still clung to ideas that made him keep his secret. So, he bided his time, dreaming of the day he graduated from high school and moved to some place more progressive that he could live his life.

“Let’s us pray” the preacher stated, and Quinton realized the sermon was finally over. Once the pianist finished the hymn and the preacher finally gave up on getting anyone to the alter they all stood up for the final prayer and headed out. Quinton eased out of the pew and quickly made his way out. Leaning against the front of his mother’s SUV he watched the others coming as he waited for his parents. Being near the front it would take a few minutes for them to make it out, so he took in the other guys in the church around his age. He tried to imagine them in a sexual way, but the truth was not one of them appealed to him. Either too full of themselves or something about them that seemed too tied to this place, as if they had some destiny to remain here forever.

Mary came out followed by Elliott and their parents, their mother protectively keeping a hand on Elliott. Quinton could see how it embarrassed Elliott, the way his mother clung to him. He heard her refer to Elliott as her baby then her little boy. Elliott’s face burned red with each declaration. ‘Jesus, leave the kid alone’ he thought as he watched Elliott try to twist out from his mother’s grasp.

He heard the familiar laugh and saw his mother and father coming down the steps onto the main walk. It made him smile to see the way they interacted, the closeness that existed between them, something he hoped to find one day, although with another guy, not a wife.

“Come on, son, let’s go home” his father stated as they separated to get into the SUV. Quinton followed his father and climbed into the back seat. As they pulled out of the parking lot he saw Elliott jog away from his parents and quickly get into their minivan pulling the door shut even though the interior had to be extremely hot after sitting in the sun for over two hours.

 23 April 2015

Quinton pulled into a parking space in front of the First National Bank in town. It was his grandparent’s and parent’s bank and for now, it was his bank. He had some cash he wanted to put into his account from last weekend when his parents gave him a birthday party. It had seemed childish at first for he was eighteen, a man in his eyes, but in the end, he was glad they had done it. Having his friends around had been fun. Even his cousins showing up had not detracted from it. They grilled hamburgers and hot dogs, played volleyball till it got dark then hung out inside where his parents let them have the run of the place, retiring to their bedroom upstairs. They played music, then games and finally settled on some horror flick that made several cry out, causing the others to laugh. When he finally opened the presents, most of them cards with a ten or twenty stuck inside he found himself stashing a wad of bills in his room.

Climbing down from his Jeep, the one he had financed himself back in the winter, he couldn’t help but drag his fingers along the fender as he walked toward the bank. He worked on the farm with his dad, earning a percentage of their income and he took side jobs from other farmers, helping to put in crops or harvest them and for Mr. Simpson, he went over whenever one of his hired hands was on vacation to help with the dairy farm, an operation that ran twenty-four/seven. He wasn’t getting rich by any means, but he was able to save up while also making payments on the three-year old Jeep that was now his.

Inside the cool interior, the old marble floor reflecting the sunlight filtering through the windows and doors, he made his way to Mrs. Henderson’s desk as he pulled out the check he had written before leaving home. He could have mailed the Jeep payment but this morning he had some errands to run and decided it was just as easy to drop it off.

“Hey Quinton, how’s that new ride?” Mrs. Henderson asked as he moved up to her desk handing her the check.

“Great, not one problem with it so far.”

“How’s your folks doing?”

“Good. Mom has finally gotten dad to agree to a trip to California, so they are leaving next week.”

“Wow, I wish Terry would take me to California. Well, you tell them I said hello and hope they have a good time.”

 “Will do. See ya later” Quinton replied as he took the receipt from Mrs. Henderson and headed toward the door. The bank was quiet, only a few customers in line at the tellers. As he approached the door he saw a familiar car drive up, a blue Ford sedan with a ‘John 3:16” tag on the front. It could only be the Rowlands. Why he did it, he wasn’t sure, but he slowed down as he watched the doors swing open then little Elliott climb out from behind the wheel as Mr. Rowland climbed out of the passenger seat.

Quinton had to laugh at the way he himself had thought of Elliott, who was obviously not a little kid anymore. He was tall and lanky and by the fact he was driving was now fifteen and in possession of a learner’s permit. Watching them approach, Elliott falling in behind his father, Quinton pushed the front door open and held it for them to enter.

“Quinton, how are you?” Mr. Rowland asked but by his tone Quinton knew he didn’t really care. Quinton had been skipping out on church for several months, taking jobs with other farmers on weekends to avoid going. Mr. Rowland obviously didn’t approve. Elliott followed his father through the door and gave Quinton a nod of the head.

“Hey, Quinton. I like your Jeep.”

“Thanks. I see your driving now.”

“Yeah, dad let’s me drive some” Elliott replied as he continued inside.

Quinton realized Elliott had just spoken the most words to him in all the years they had known each other. And by the comment he knew Mrs. Rowland still kept a tight hold on him, for it was only his dad letting him drive.

Back behind the wheel of his Jeep, Quinton slipped his sunglasses on, started the engine, tuned the radio to another station then backed out of the parking space. He was going to the small hardware store in town to pick up some supplies for his mom and grab another bottle of car wash. He drove across town slowly, the wind whipping through the open cab as he found himself thinking of Elliott. He felt nervous at his feelings of attraction, especially to someone three years his junior, someone he knew was a minor to him now that he was eighteen. As he considered it he wondered if he was just feeling sympathy toward Elliott, sorry about the way his parents treated him, especially his mother.

He had been really surprised to find Elliott taller than him, a few inches taller, made more noticeable by his long armed, long legged lanky body. He had also noticed that Elliott was starting to grow a beard, albeit just a sparse shadow along his chin and jaw, but it was so obvious, the black color of it against the fair white skin. But Elliott still looked young, with no sideburns, his hair line neat as a young boy’s. It was apparent by the shortness his parents made him keep his hair, tight around the sides and just enough length on top to comb over. It was rigid in appearance and devoid of any style.

Crossing Olsen Avenue, a horn beeped, and Quinton saw it was Ryan from his class with another guy he didn’t know. It reminded him that graduation was only a few weeks away. He had been looking forward to it so much he didn’t know how to feel now. For years he considered it the threshold to a new life. He was going to leave this place and live somewhere else. But now he wasn’t so sure. He loved farming with his father and the extra work he took on gave him the means to do more. He bought the Jeep and was now planning a trip in the summer after beans were set aside till harvest time. Over the last few months he told himself he could leave anytime he wanted, but for now he was content.

The only problem was his loneliness. He had friends, lots of friends that wanted to do things all the time. But he had no one to be intimate with, someone to go through the ritual of dating. The last few weeks he had begun to search online more and more, hands hovering over one post after the next, wondering if he should respond. His problem was far too many were about a quick hook up, which was not what he wanted. He wanted more. 

His trip was going to be down to Key West for a few days, then drive up the eastern coast of Florida to the Cape. It was going to be the first time he could be himself without fear of judgement. And if he was going to just explore his sexuality, then this would be the time to do it.

12 October 2015

Quinton swung the combine around and aligned the header to cut back across the field. He watched as the beans were pulled in, the cutting bar snipping them off near the ground and the auger pulling everything to the throat of the header and into the machine. There was a constant roar of the machine filtering into the cab as it threshed the beans from their pods dumping them into the bin. Quinton eased along the field, glancing in the mirrors making sure there was no mechanical issues in the rear of the machine. Looking to the south he saw his father pull along the edge of the field in the grain truck having just returned from the elevator.

They had cut the forty-acre field behind his grandparent’s house first then moved to this field. It was ninety acres and ‘C’ shaped, working around a natural pond along the Western side of the property.  Quinton looked across the section already cut estimating they had a third of the field harvested.

As the machine moved slowly along, Quinton watching the process in front of him, his mind wandered from one thing to the next. He thought about his first summer after high school and his trip to Key West that brought a mischievous smile to his face every time he thought of Brian and Cody, two guys from New York he had met at one of the bars. He had spent three days with them until the time came for them to fly back to New York. Then he made his way north, going through Miami and Fort Lauderdale where he spent a few more days before making his way to the Cape.

Visiting the Cape had been a childhood dream, one his parents never seriously considered. He spent a full day at the exhibits. When he finally turned his Jeep toward home he felt relaxed and satisfied. And surprisingly, ready for home.

Over the remainder of the summer he worked with his father and other farmers and spent his free time hanging out in town with friends before some left for college in the fall. After the week in Key West, Quinton kept finding himself looking at his male friends in a new way. He had done it before, imagining them in sexual situations, but it was more intense now. The acts of sex he could imagine, the different positions, and how one would respond to them. It fueled his fantasies, at times making him blush red causing one or another of his friends to ask what he was thinking.

There was one night in town, everyone parked in the rear of the drive-thru watching others circle around as they cruised the small town, he found himself sitting on a guy’s tailgate. Brian was from town, someone Quinton had crossed paths with over the last couple of years, but this was the first time they hung out together. Brian seemed to be flirting with him. There was the touching. Nothing too blatant, just a hand on a leg or arm as he made some point or was getting Quinton’s attention to look in a particular direction. They sat behind the drive-thru for over an hour, Quinton trying to work out how to get Brian to go with him somewhere alone and Brian seeming to drag the night on, while keeping Quinton close by. It had gotten late, the parking lot beginning to thin out when Quinton took a chance, a daring move he would have never done before. He leaned over close to Brian and just asked him, straight out, if he wanted to go somewhere.

It was obvious what he had suggested, no doubt about his intentions and Brian had turned red, stammered some reply about needing to go home. Quinton felt he had gone too far, made a mistake that could come back to haunt him. Brian jumped down and moved to the cab of his truck, opened the door and hesitated. Quinton moved to the far side of the truck next to his Jeep, waiting to see if Brian had anything to say, fearful of what it could be.

“Quinton…I want to…really I do, but I can’t. I just can’t” Brian finally said before climbing into his truck. He wanted to be mad at Brian, but he knew he never could be upset with someone still struggling with their sexuality. He wasn’t exactly out about his own.

Coming to the end of the rows, he slowed the large machine, raised the header as he came to the cut end rows and swung around to go back across the field. Looking over in the bin he saw it was three quarters full. Header lowered, the drive speed set he began to move back across the field. Flashing the lights twice he signaled his father to come out and meet him along the way for he knew he would not make it all the way back across the field. He stared at the rotating reel as it pulled the dried stalks back and the cycling motion caused his mind to wander once again.

The day he returned from Florida, pulling in the afternoon, when the sun’s shadows began to stretch across the yard. His parents were out, a note on the counter letting him know they were in Monroeville to visit his aunt. The house had been eerily quiet, only the ticking of the old clock in the living room breaking the silence. In his room, suitcase on the bed, he unpacked, putting toiletries away and took his dirty clothes to the laundry room. He loaded them in the washer and tossed in a detergent pack. Back in his room he stripped, laid out clean clothes and took a shower. It was all so normal, nothing out of the ordinary.  Back to the routine of daily life.

Dressed in clean jeans and a white shirt, sleeves rolled up and collar open, he grabbed up his keys and wallet and headed out. He removed the doors on the Jeep, laid the top back, climbed in and took off. It was only a fifteen-minute drive into town and the late breakfast he had that morning while on the road was gone.

The diner in downtown was not busy, only a few tables occupied. Quinton took a table by the window and after ordering a hamburger and drink, leaned back to watch the few pedestrians out and about. He recognized a few faces, but really didn’t know most of them. Living in the rural countryside outside of town made him a stranger to most in town. As he watched the scenes of downtown passing by he began to daydream, to relive the last two weeks. It made him smile thinking of it, especially the days in Key West.

A blue Ford sedan pulled into a parking space in front of the diner. Only the color registered with Quinton as he stared out. The doors opened and those inside climbed out. As they moved to the front of the car Quinton realized it was the Rowlands. Mr. Rowland put money in the meter as Mrs. Rowland was fussing with Elliott’s collar. Shaking his head, Quinton wondered how Elliott took it, this constant mothering. He saw red bloom into Elliott’s cheeks as his mother tugged on his collar continuously talking.

The Rowlands came into the diner taking a booth along the far wall. Quinton could see Mr. and Mrs. Rowland perfectly since they took the side facing the door, which left Elliott in profile sitting opposite. ‘Damn, he looks even taller’ Quinton thought as he considered how Elliott towered over his parents, and even sitting in the booth, one could see he was tall, his head nearly to the top of the partition between the booths. Quinton looked at him with sympathy. This teenager, who should be out with friends having fun, instead is stuck with his parents. There was an introverted nature to Elliott, the way he held his head down, barely looking others in the eye. ‘Submissive’ was the word that came to mind as he turned his attention to the waitress bringing him his food.

Tip written on the receipt, everything totaled up and his signature on the bottom line Quinton stood up and headed to the men’s room at the back of the restaurant. The old door squeaked as he pulled it open and he stepped inside. A man from the kitchen was at the urinal so he went into the stall that cut across the far end of the small room. As he relieved himself he heard the urinal flush, water run at the lavatory then the door squeak open.

Zipped up and the toilet flushing he stepped out of the stall to see Elliott standing at the urinal. The horizontal striped shirt did nothing to add broadness to the lean torso and the skinny jeans made the long legs appear even longer. ‘How tall is he now? Six four? Quinton thought as he moved to the lavatory and washed his hands. He couldn’t stop himself from glancing over at Elliott. The way he stood facing the wall with an expression Quinton couldn’t name, some look that seemed sad, or was it loneliness?. The towel dispenser was on the opposite wall and he pulled two from the bottom to dry his hands. Elliott flushed the urinal and moved to the lavatory without looking his way. As he turned to leave he saw Elliott’s reflection in the mirror. He was looking up watching him. Reaching out for the door Elliott’s voice broke the silence between them.

“Quinton?”

“Yeah, Elliott, what’s up?”

“You don’t come to church anymore.” It was just a statement with no judgement in tone.

“No. I don’t…can’t accept some of the things that preacher says.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean” Elliott replied as he turned around, hands dripping. “You staying here to farm with your dad?”

“I think so, at least for now.”

Elliott seemed to be considering something, his lips tightened as his face took on a serious expression. “I don’t think I can stay here” he finally uttered with his voice trailing off as he pulled out a paper towel and dried his hands.

“We all have to make our own way” Quinton replied as he pushed the door open holding it for Elliott to follow.

“Thanks” Elliott uttered in a barely audible voice as he passed. He didn’t turn around or acknowledge Quinton again as he went to the booth where his parents waited. Quinton walked across the dining room and out the door feeling sorry for him. He seemed trapped in his current situation and Quinton knew he would probably leave as soon as he graduated. He thought of Mary, Elliott’s sister, and how she was at some Bible college up in Tennessee and knew the Rowlands had similar plans for their son. Elliott could be under his parent’s thumb for years to come.

 28 April 2018

 Quinton pulled into the drive-thru and parked in the back next to a green Dodge truck he recognized. Looking over he saw Curtis sitting with his girlfriend, Deanna, eating lunch. As he climbed down from his Jeep he tapped the window sill of the Dodge.

“Hey guys, what have you been up to?”

“Not much” Curtis replied as Deanna smiled his way.

“You still working with the pulp wood crew?”

“No, I quit that shitty ass job last fall. I’m over at the prison now. I’m a guard, if you can believe it.”

“No, not really” Quinton replied laughing at the thought of rowdy Curtis being a prison guard.

“You still farming with your dad?”

“Yep.  So far, it has been good.”

“You still living at home?”

“Nah, I”ve bought Mrs. Godwin’s old place.”

“Really. I heard it was in rough shape.”

“It was but I’ve been working on it.”

“Good luck with that” Curtis replied shaking his head.

 “I’ll see you around. I’ve got to get something to eat.”

“Later” Curtis called out as Quinton headed to the rear door of the drive-thru. As he walked across the alligatored parking lot he saw an older Civic circle around the parking lot and stop somewhere behind him. It was after one o’clock, so the dining area wasn’t busy, only a few tables occupied. ‘I’m always eating a late lunch’ Quinton thought as he crossed the dining heading to the counter to order.

The young teenager behind the counter took his order and he swung around to move away so the next person could move up. Behind him stood Elliott. At first Quinton wasn’t sure it really was him, but the tall lanky body gave it away. And he did look different. His hair was grown out longer on top till it hung down over his eyes and his clothes seemed less rigid, the jeans faded and worn, and the t-shirt hung loose. What really caught his eye was the image on the t-shirt, a rectangle of lines that undulated in the middle. “Unknown Pleasures” written across the bottom. Quinton didn’t know the artwork or the reference, but he vaguely recognized the band name.

“Hey Elliott. Who is that band?” Quinton asked as he let Elliott have access to the counter.

“An old band from back in the late seventies and early eighties.”

“They still around?”

“The remaining members were under a different name. The lead singer died” Elliott replied.

“Order 312…312” an older woman behind the counter called out and Quinton saw it was his order.

“That’s me” he replied as he moved to the pick-up section. “Hey, Elliott, if you’re by yourself come sit with me.”

Elliott looked over surprised then smiled nodding his head. “Okay.”

Quinton had the empty paper tray pushed back and his drink sitting closer as Elliott finished the last of his burger. There had been little conversation when Elliott first sat down, and he didn’t push it, sensing he should let Elliott speak when he was ready.

“How’s the farm?” Elliott asked, and Quinton knew this was just a question to start a conversation.

“Okay. How’s school? You graduate this year, right?”

“It’s okay and yeah, I finish this year. I can’t wait.”

“You going to college?”

“I’m not sure. My parents want me to go to the same one my sister attends, but…”

“A bit too religious?”

Elliott smiled for the first time, nodding his head.

“What about a regular college?” Quinton asked as he watched Elliott push the paper tray back and drink the last of his soda.

“I don’t know…I’m not sure what I’d major in and the cost…”

“The cost?”

“Yeah, if I don’t go to that Bible thumping college my parents refuse to pay for it.”

Quinton saw the change in Elliott’s expression, the rise in his tone of voice, an anger he had not seen before.

“Can we talk about something else?” Elliott asked looking imploringly at Quinton.

“Yeah, sure.”

“What about you? Don’t you have a girlfriend yet?”

There was the instinctive sense to raise his guard, the question seemed to probe where he wasn’t sure he should let the conversation go.

“No, I huh…no.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

Elliott looked around the room, no one sitting nearby, and he leaned in toward Quinton, lowering his voice. “Maybe.”

Quinton suddenly realized what guys online meant by gaydar, this perception of another guy being gay. Elliott suddenly gave him that vibe, something he had never considered when he had been around him in the past. ‘What was it?’ he wondered as he studied the guy sitting across from him.

“Have you…done anything?” Quinton asked.

“No. It’s not like there are opportunities around here.  Have you?”

Quinton smiled, the memory of his Florida trip suddenly vivid in his mind. He looked over at Elliott who was waiting for his response, desperate for it even.

“Yes. When I went down to Key West.”

“But no one around here?”

Shaking his head Quinton sat up. He felt uneasy where the conversation could go.

“Elliott, listen to me. Be careful out there. I know the internet has so many opportunities and someone as young as you can be such an attraction…”

“Do you find me attractive?” Elliott interrupted.

Quinton hesitated then decided to be honest. “Yes. You are an attractive guy, but you’re also only seventeen.”

“You think I’m a little kid?”

“No, it’s not like that, it’s just…”

“You could get into trouble, especially if my parents find out. I know” Elliott responded as he bowed his head.

“Elliott, there is only three years between us, but it is at a time when you’re under eighteen and it is too risky for me.”

“I’ll be eighteen in a month.”

Quinton laughed, for the determination Elliott was showing was surprising. Looking over he saw Elliott laughing too. When they fell silent he wasn’t sure what to say so they sat quietly for a moment. The door opened, and a family came in with two brothers picking on each other making a racket.

“I think it is time to go” said Quinton.

Elliott followed Quinton out the rear door and across the parking lot. Quinton went to open Jeep and saw Elliott move to the driver’s side of the Civic sitting next to him.

“I’ll see you around” said Quinton as he climbed into his Jeep.

“Promise?  I mean, can we get together for lunch or dinner sometime. Just to talk?”

“Sure” Quinton replied, and he stepped down handing his cell phone over the Civic toward Elliott. “Put your number in.”

For three weeks Quinton would find Elliott calling him at night. The conversations were slow at first, Elliott stammering on about nothing while Quinton listened, wondering what Elliott really wanted to talk about even though he knew. When the weekends arrived, Quinton found himself with Elliott in town at the diner or the drive-thru on Saturdays but what surprised him was Elliott being free on Sundays. The first weekend they rode out to the fish camp down near the river. The next weekend they went to Greenville to a restaurant then to a movie. The third weekend found Quinton at his grill cooking steaks while Elliott sat nearby watching him.

Quinton wasn’t sure how it had happened, but the last two weekends felt like dates. Could it be he was letting things go further than was wise? Elliott had been good, not pushing anything and over the last two weeks more open about himself which led Quinton to openly admit the obvious. They talked about being gay in this rural area and for Elliott, all the worse growing up in a family so religious, so filled with the dogma of their denomination that it made him feel ostracized from his own family. Quinton talked about his dreams, the desires for a simple life. Elliott talked about just wanting to breath, to have the space to be himself. He seemed lost during these conversations, unsure of himself, but Quinton knew what Elliott was trying to say. Careers or monetary goals didn’t interest Elliott, only the ability to live his own life.

Standing at the grill Quinton looked over letting his eyes scan the long lean body sitting nearby. Elliott looked like all legs and arms. He was wearing shorts, something Quinton had never seen him wear before. Dark hairs covered the lower legs and he couldn’t stop wondering what they would feel like rubbing along his own legs. The white t-shirt was a cheap brand, the neck stretched out revealing some of the collarbone. The sleeves were rolled up revealing the long skinny arms. Quinton was surprised the arms didn’t have the same dark hair covering them but when Elliott stretched his arms out then up one time he saw the thick dark hair in each pit. Even skinny there was something more mature about Elliott. A masculinity that was alluring. A temptation he fought to suppress.

Elliott’s birthday was on Saturday, the twenty-sixth of May and his parents had a small party for him, inviting family and friends from their church. Elliott played his role, smiled as he talked with everyone, thanking them for each gift, no matter how much he may have disliked it. He had invited Quinton, but he refused telling Elliott they could do something the next day.

Once everyone had left, Elliott retired to his room laying out the gifts on his bed. There were two shirts, one he would never wear, one hundred dollars in twenties, two gift cards and a new Bible from his parents. He looked at the leather cover and the gold edged pages and released a sigh. It didn’t surprise him they gave him another Bible, but the inscription inside it made him feel the distance growing between him and his parents. He knew, sooner or later, it would come to a head, for graduation was the next week and he planned to come out right after the ceremony. He knew how it would transpire, how his parents would react. Unlike in the past when it scared him, made him lay in bed at night unable to sleep, now it merely seemed inevitable.

The next day Elliott arrived at Quinton’s place at ten o’clock, as promised. The Jeep sat outside the carport with the doors removed and the top down. He pulled in next to it and parked. He knew they were going up to the state park over in the next county where they could swim and picnic. He wore a pair of cargo shorts, a tank top with a shirt over it. His mother would have never allowed him to wear something like a tank top. She frowned on the shorts. So, he hid it underneath a shirt which he pulled off and tossed into his car.

 The screen door slammed shut and Elliott saw Quinton coming down the path. He carried a cardboard box with the top folded down, interlocked to keep it closed. He put the box in the back of the Jeep next to a cooler.

Elliott couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming over Quinton. He wore swimming trunks that revealed a curved ass and the front bulged with his manhood. He wore a short sleeve shirt completely unbuttoned revealing his lean torso with its flat stomach. Elliott had a strong desire to reach out and touch him, to let his fingers graze the firm skin, feel its warmth. He’d never wanted anyone so much as he wanted Quinton at this moment. The last few weeks were a trial, a real test, but he had known not to push Quinton, to bide his time, and now he was an eighteen-year old man. An adult by the system and he wondered if Quinton would give him the opportunity to explore their masculinity, sharing something intimate. He struggled to keep his mind in the present moment, as they loading.

“What’s in the box?”

“Oh, it’s our food. Sorry, I don’t have a fancy picnic basket” Quinton replied, smiling up at Elliott. “Let me go get the sun block and my cell phone and we get on the road.”

 They drove alone the county two-lane roads with the wind whipping around the interior of the Jeep and music playing loud enough to hear over it. They drove along familiar roads, then crossed into the next county where Elliott had only been a few times. He stared at the passing scenery as Quinton drove. Farms with planted fields or pastures with cows grazing were on both sides of the road for miles, but without realizing it at first Elliott found himself looking at rows of pine, so evenly spaced he saw them in a rhythmic pattern. Both sides of the road had young pine, no taller than thirty or so feet in height but tall enough to frame the road ahead. They arrived at the park around eleven thirty and Quinton drove the narrow-paved lane that cut through the park, passing large picnic areas, a couple of pavilions and public access points to the small lake in the park’s center. He drove to the far side and pulled into a small parking lot surrounded by trees.

“This is where some of us used to come in high school. The lake is about six hundred yards through the trees along that path, which is too far for most. Come on, I’ll grab the cooler and you get the box of food.”

Elliott followed Quinton along the narrow path, so unused pine straw covered it. It wound through pine, oak, cottonwood, maple and cedar. Bands of dogwood ran through the trees along with shrubs and small trees. They walked slowly till finally coming out into the sunshine where the woods opened up along the bank of the lake. To their left sat one picnic table and the other was straight ahead which Quinton was heading toward.

An hour later, finished with lunch, they walked to the sand beach along the lake’s shore. Quinton stood in the water’s edge and looked back smiling.

“Let’s swim” he said as he pulled his shirt off tossing it on the grass just above the sand beach.

“I’m not wearing swim trunks” Elliott replied.

“Are you wearing boxers?”

“Yeah, why?”

“No one’s around. Slip off those shorts and shirt and come on.”

Quinton gave Elliott a questioning look, then to emphasize his point turned back to the open lake and waded out to his waist. “Come on, Elliott” he said without turning around then arms stretched out in front of him he dove into the dark waters.

Elliott watched the surface calm back to the low rippling waves while Quinton was under, wondering where he would surface. About twenty feet out Quinton surfaced. Only the tops of his shoulders were visible. He looked toward Elliott and Elliott could feel those eyes on him, the urging of him to come into the water. He tugged the tank top off and flung it on top of Quinton’s shirt. He reached down and undid the button on the cargo shorts, lowered the zipper then hesitated, seeing the white fabric of the boxers. He knew getting them wet would make them transparent. He worried someone would see him but looking up at Quinton the notion of being seen made his heart beat faster and he lowered the cargo shorts stepping out of them. He tossed them with the shirts and waded out into the lake.

They swam around the each other, Quinton smooth and proficient in his strokes and Elliott ungainly, seeming to have to work twice as hard to swim the same distance. They swam in depths their feet could barely touch with their heads above the water’s surface. Quinton swam up close at one point and splashed Elliott which led to them horsing around, pushing each other under. When they finally calmed down Quinton was right in front of Elliott, so close their feet bumped against each other. Elliott didn’t know where he got the courage, the audacity to do it, but he reach out till his fingers grazed bare skin. Quinton flinched, his expression one of shock, but he didn’t move back.

Elliott felt the undulating stomach, the way it heaved with each breath. He moved his fingers in small circles over it till one slipped over the indent of the navel and Quinton sniggered and moved back breaking the contact.

“That tickles” he whispered.

Elliott smiled as he moved his hand forward making contact once again. He felt an anxiousness, some desire to feel Quinton, a need really, so strong it made him feel aroused. He moved his fingers downward touching the waistband of the trunks then over the billowing fabric till he felt it, the tube shape of it, thicker than his own. He traced its shape following the length of it. Quinton was quiet, mouth open as if ready to moan, or cry out at any moment. Grasping the shaft Elliott manipulated it, felt the flared head thicken and the shaft lengthen.

“Wait” Quinton uttered pulling back. “I don’t think we should…” he stammered then let his voice trail off.

“Why?” Elliott asked, hurt in his voice. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, no, but…” Quinton replied, unsure how to say what he was thinking. This was too fast, Elliott still seemed like someone underage, too young for him to be messing with even though he knew it was not the case. The real issue was their friendship, the way it was developing. Was this a mistake? To cross this line and become intimate with each other. He wasn’t sure. Part of him said ‘slow down’ but another part said ‘don’t be stupid’. Maybe it was just too close to home. The loneliness not enough to cancel out his old fears. His internal debate was enough for Elliott, who turned and headed to shore. Before he turned away Quinton saw the tears form in his eyes.

“Elliott!, Wait up” he called out as he began to chase after him.

It made him stagger, to stop in his tracks. Elliott rose up out of the water and his ass was evident through the wet boxers. When he turned back, telling Quinton to leave him alone, Quinton saw him anew. Masculine, manly, with his engorged cock straining against the wet fabric. It was long, thin like Elliott’s body frame, angled off to one side. He looked at the fair skin, the long torso with water cascading down it, rivulets tracing over the skin. The small fan of pubic hair over Elliott’s cock was partially exposed over the waistband where the boxers had slipped down low on Elliott’s waist. He wanted to close the distance between them, wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel the bare skin and take him in hand.

Elliott backed up the sand beach with awkward steps as he kept telling Quinton to stop. Near the upper edge he stumbled going down into a seated position. Knees up, he crossed his arms over them and lowered his head. Quinton came up on the narrow beach and stood close, silent, unsure what to say.

“Can we leave?” Elliott uttered without looking up.

“Yeah, sure, but Elliott…I didn’t mean to…”

“Forget it.”

The reply was so curt it caught Quinton off guard. When Elliott finally looked up to face him he merely nodded his head, not sure if he was agreeing to them leaving or to letting it drop. Or both.

They rode in silence back to his house and as soon as he stopped Elliott climbed down and went to his car. Quinton watched him start the engine, back around and drive off wondering how he had fucked it up so badly.

The few pots and utensils used for dinner were placed in the dishwasher along with the plate, fork and knife. Drinking the last of the tea from his glass he placed it on the top rack and pushed it back in place. It was nowhere near full, but he placed detergent in the cup, closed the door and turned it on. It was the sound of it he wanted, the spray of water within its confines that became white noise drowning out the silence of the house.

Dropping down on the sofa he turned and propped his feet over the far arm while resting his head on the two small pillows tucked into the corner. The television screen reflected the room back at him, the stillness of it, the dim light of the two lamps on end tables and his prone body lying across the sofa. The dishwasher droned on in the kitchen, but the loudest sound was his ongoing monologue inside his head.

‘Why did I pull away from Elliott?’

‘Why did it scare me, the touch of his hand?’

‘He was always just a kid to me…till now.’

‘Now?’

The image of Elliott standing in the edge of the lake, practically naked in his wet boxers. The long cock pushing outward. The redness of it, such a contrast to his white skin. He was no kid. No longer innocent, as we think of the term. Should we say virginal? Quinton felt his arousal as he thought of Elliott.

‘I’m attracted to him.’

‘Admit it you bastard, you’ve been attracted to him for a while.’

An image of Elliott and he being intimate, lips touching, the kissing open mouthed as hands moved over the other.

Looking over the back of the sofa toward the kitchen he thought he heard the screen door open. ‘Was that a knock?’ The dishwasher went into another wash cycle. He stood up and went into the kitchen. There was a silhouette at the back door, just the faint outline of someone standing at the door visible through the window. Tall, filling the window, and he knew who was at this door. Unlocking the door then swinging it open he saw Elliott standing in the dark, the front of his body suddenly illuminated in by the light of the kitchen.

“Elliott?”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah…come on in” Quinton replied stepping aside. Elliott came in wearing the same tank top but now in lieu of the cargo shorts were jeans. “You want something to drink?”

“No. Can we talk?”

“Yes, yes…come on in.”

 In the living room, Elliott on the sofa and Quinton in an arm chair sitting across from each other, they sat silent for a moment, Quinton waiting anxiously to hear to what Elliott had to say.

“I know I overreacted today, and I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I overreacted too. I didn’t mean to be…” he stammered for the right word, the right phrase as he contemplated what to admit. “I let…I…needed time to adjust my…perception of you.”

Elliott looked at Quinton confused, wondering what he meant.

“I know it’s crazy, but you were always this kid, someone too young, but it was only, what, three years between us. My parents are five years apart and…” Quinton hesitated, looking around the room to avoid the confused look on Elliott’s face. “In another year or so, this three years will be nothing. It’s nothing now…really.”

Looking back across the room he saw Elliott stand up, move around the coffee table and come to stand in front of him. “I’m not a little kid anymore” Elliott whispered as he moved to his knees. Quinton watched as Elliott rested hands on each of his knees. Slowly, gently, Elliott pushed them apart as he shifted up between them. “Can you just let this happen?” Elliott asked. Quinton nodded as he felt those hands move up his thighs, slowly, rubbing over the soft worn denim till they framed his crotch. His cock felt trapped, fighting for more room as it grew.

Earlier, when he had pictured sex with Elliott, it was he who had taken the lead, the one who made the first move, manipulated Elliott for their mutual pleasure. Now he sat slouched down, legs pushed apart with Elliott between them. He watched as Elliott leaned down and pressed his face into the crotch of the jeans he wore. He felt the mouth search for him, felt it move along his growing cock. Hot breath warmed him, made him grow more aroused. Fingers fumbled with his jeans, tugging on the front, pulling them open. The press of lips against his boxers, the movement over the thin fabric till they pressed against his thickening shaft. He felt those lips move along its length as hands worked his jeans down.

He put one hand on Elliott’s head, let his fingers rake over the short hair as he felt his boxers pulled up and over his cock. It bounced upward, free, out in the open. Hot breath caressed it, then the touch of lips, finally the wet slick rake of tongue up to the head. It swirled around the arrow shaped head then probed the slit. He bucked upward and moaned. Eyes closed he became nothing but his sexual need, aware of nothing but the manipulation of his cock. The press of lips to the head then the feel of them sliding down its length as the mouth took him. Enveloped in the warmth he pushed upward. As his ass rose those hands worked his jeans down his legs. He lifted one foot then the other letting them work first his jeans then his boxers off. Naked, free of the restraint of clothing, Elliott pushed his legs apart as he released his cock. He felt the kiss, then tongue against his sac. A hand grasped him as the mouth took his sac and tugged on it. It tugged hard till pain shot up his spine and he moaned with the pleasure of it.

As the hand manipulated his cock, stroked it slowly, the mouth moved downward as the other hand pushed one leg up and over. He felt himself open up, this spread of his legs, the tilt of his hip then the touch. The touch of tongue against his skin, moving from his sac downward till it raked over his opening caused him to moan. The hand on his cock let go and his other leg was pushed upward and over as the tongue played with him, pressed against his tightness and rubbed over it till he wanted nothing more that this stimulation.

“Fuck” Quinton uttered as he felt the tongue push against him, work against his tightness till he loosened to it, letting it penetrate him. How long Elliott manipulated him he didn’t know but he felt the wetness around his opening, the loosening of it along with his increased desire for more. Elliott shifted between his legs, the hands taking each leg and jerking him further down on the seat of the chair till his ass overhung its edge and his head was bent up against the lower back. He opened his eyes and watched as Elliott moved up between his legs. The tank top was removed and from what he could see so were the jeans. Hard, sticking straight out, Elliott pushed against his opening, rubbed over it then pressed against it till he felt the breach. Pain shot through him as Elliott pushed inward penetrating him inch by inch. He felt every inch sink into his hole till Elliott’s abdomen was pushing against his ass.

He felt the depth of the penetration, the fullness of it. Elliott held still, pressed against his ass as he felt himself loosen. As he relaxed to this stretching of his opening Elliott began to move, to pull back and push inward, over and over, slowly, letting him feel every inch moving through this opening.

“Take me…take me…” Elliott whispered as he increased his pace, began to move his hips till they were fucking. Quinton rocked with every push inward. He’d been holding tightly to the arms of the chair but as Elliott fucked his ass he let his hands drop down, so he could let his fingers feel each of Elliott’s thighs as they moved toward him then pulled away.

Elliott pulled free of his hole leaving him feeling empty.

“Turn around and get on your knees” Elliott commanded, suddenly a demeanor that was so different than before. Quinton got up and on his knees in the chair resting his chest over the back. Elliott wasted no time moving up between his legs, sinking the full length of his cock into Quinton. It made him cry out. Holding Quinton by the hips Elliott fucked him with a furious pace. Now it was about fucking for release, feeling the stroke of his shaft through the tight opening of Quinton’s hole. The chair rocked with their fuck and the room seem to grow hot. Elliott began to sweat, his muscles burning with his exertions. He put one hand in the center of Quinton’s back and raked it upward till his fingers combed through Quinton’s hair. Then he grabbed a handful and pulled Quinton’s head back, pulled till Quinton’s body came back toward him. It drove him to fuck harder, the way he held Quinton in position, submissive to his desires.

“Fuck me, fuck me harder” Quinton urged, his voice reverberating with the rocking motion of their fuck. “Give it to me, come on Elliott, fuck my ass.”

Elliott hammered cock inside Quinton then cried out as his whole body shivered with release. He collapsed on Quinton’s back breathing hard. When he slipped free he stood and guided Quinton to turn and sit. He moved to his knees once again and took the wet leaking cock in his mouth. He moved on it only a few times when he felt it thicken and flex in his mouth. Quinton went rigid as he stifled a groan. Elliott felt the push upward then the flood of cum in his mouth.

The sun light filtered around the blinds casting bands of light across the bed. The sheet was tangled around the two bodies, feet sticking out along the foot of the bed and their upper bodies, spooned together had it twisted around them. Sleep had come quickly after they fell into bed, horsing around at first then lying across it in a sixty-nine sucking each other till both climaxed once again.

Quinton stirred first, opening his eyes to the back of Elliott’s head. He smelled the scent of him while at the same time he felt the heat of his body against his own. He was hard, his cock pressed against Elliott’s ass and he pushed it along the cleft between the cheeks. As he pumped his hardness against Elliott he kissed his neck. Elliott stirred, turned his head till they could kiss.

“That feels good…do me” Elliott whispered as he pulled back and rolled onto his stomach. Quinton followed, moving over his prone body and nestling his cock against the ass raised up underneath him. Elliott pulled his cheeks apart baring himself to Quinton as he pleaded with him to do it, to stick him, to put it inside his body.

Quinton pushed his cock down to Elliott’s opening and pushed. The tightness fought against the penetration but using the weight of his body, he pushed till his cock breached the tightness and squeezed through it. He felt Elliott’s tight opening milk his cock as it slipped inward inch by inch. When he was nearly all the way in Elliott began to undulate beneath him, to push upward taking the last of his cock till their bodies came together.

“Oh fuck…fuck me” Elliott moaned as Quinton shifted into a better position, hands holding Elliott’s hands down on the bed and his body hovering above. He began to fuck, to piston his cock inside Elliott’s hole, to drive inward all the way hips smacking against ass, then pulling upward till nearly free. Over and over Quinton worked his cock through the loosening entrance to Elliott’s hole. He thrust through it with abandon driven to fuck harder by the grunts, moans and pleading beneath him. He hammered away at Elliott’s hole till sweat ran in large rivulets from his hairline and along his torso and the bed rocked and squeaked with their exertions.

“Fuck me Quinton…fuck me” Elliott pleaded, pushing upward with his ass trying to get Quinton deeper into his hole. He wanted to feel the fullness of it, cock sunk into his body touching something within. It fueled his urges, drove him to want more. He pushed up till on all fours forcing Quinton to shift onto his knees. He pushed back till he felt his ass pressed against Quinton’s hips.

“Fuck me” he commanded as he ground his ass against Quinton.

Quinton grabbed Elliott by the waist and held him in place as he drove into his hole. All the way then pulling back with a furious pace. Sometimes he pulled free, and just for the briefest of moments, an instance frozen in time, he saw his cock hover at Elliott’s opening, then he drove it back in, all the way till he hips smacked against Elliott’s ass.

He saw Elliott stroking his own cock as he fucked. He could feel it, the build up to release. Every muscle taunt, his mind unhinged from everything but this fuck. His breathing grew rapid as the rhythm of his fuck became ragged till he was sunk in Elliott all the way, just jamming away at Elliott’s hole trying to shove inward another inch.

He came, hard, his whole body shaking with release. He bellowed out as he held Elliott in place, ass pulled back all the way on his spurting cock.

Then he was spent.

Exhausted, body glistening with sweat, Quinton fell over Elliott heaving for breath. Elliott eased down on the bed then rolled to one side spooned up next to Quinton. They lay still for a long time, the bands of light moving down the wall as the sun rose in the sky.

Elliott thought Quinton dozed off for a minute when he turned to look over his shoulder.

“What?” Quinton whispered.

“We need a shower, then food. I’m starving.”

“Agreed” Quinton replied as he rolled to the edge of the bed and up on his feet. “Come on, let’s shower and get dressed.”

It took a few months before Quinton no longer had three years difference in age come to mind. He knew at this point it didn’t matter and would even less over time. They settled into the ritual of dating, with all its formalities, both pretending not to like the conventions but both secretly enjoying it. The normalization of it to their lives.

Elliott came out to his parents in September, just before his sister returned to college. It was as he expected and as arranged beforehand, he ended up at Quinton’s door, suitcases in hand. The dating rituals were over, for it was a new phase for their relationship.