John and I

Author’s Note: Gaydemon’s policies prohibit underage stories so for all intents and purposes I was 18 at the time the following events took place. These are real life events with the names of places changed. I will however keep the character’s names the same simply because it makes it easier to write. And like I said everyone involved was “18”.

So first thing I have to tell you is that I never treated my sexuality as fluid. I never thought of it as rock solid either. I didn't think of it all that much in general. I have had a girlfriend, and have pursued other girls in my younger years. I really didn’t hold any opinion (which thinking back is weird) on gay people or the technicalities of what they did together. I was just a normal kid in high school. And then Sophomore Year happened.

I was a very smart kid, and a bit of a dick because of it. So imagine my surprise when on my schedule for 4th period, was construction. A manual labor class. Basically a useless class for me. I had spent freshman year doubling up on my math and science classes, taking honors history and prepping for my exams. I planned on doing the same sophomore year when reality hit. “Electives" they told me.

So I went to go see my guidance counselor; Mr. Herrera. First day of school I got a pass during 1st period and walked down the hall to his office. He seemed busy, but he was a good counselor so he set aside whatever he was working on and asked me what was going on. I told him I didn't want to be in that class, that there was no point and it was a waste of my time and my intelligence.

He actually chuckled.

“You aren't the first person to tell me that, Edwin. But listen, I know you had your heart set on more rigorous courses, but you need electives to graduate.”

Our school was small. About 400 kids total, and not even a home ec class. Electives basically meant construction, welding, or agriculture.

“What about all of my advanced classes, you told me those count as electives if I complete the required amount of credits.” I countered.

“That's true, but that isn't enough look-” Here he pulled out one of those academic planner things. With 4 years of course schedules on it. He counted it up for me.

Even with all of my extra classes counting as electives, I was 2 credits short of the required amount. 2 semesters of construction. I was trapped.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, are your other classes going ok?” He asked kindly. I'm pretty sure he could see the disappointment on my face.

“No I'm good. Thanks, Mr”. I told him sullenly. I walked back to class in a sort of state of resignation. This was not going to be a fun year.

So I got on with my day, got through English, Pre-Calculus, and Spanish. The part of the day I was dreading had arrived. Making my way to the woodshop behind our school (where construction was held), I made sure to have my copy of I Am Number Four handy. (Still one of my favorite literature series by the way).

Mr. Pearson was a decent teacher, he knew his stuff. And the best part was he only had 1 ground rule: “Work or don't, you get the grade you deserve. But everyone wears safety glasses”.

So I sat in a corner and read. A few kids in my grade were there, but I ignored them. Well, most of them. There was a new kid, his name was John. Jonathan actually, but I always called him John. Anyways to get back to the story.

He came over to my little corner table and sat across from me. “What are you doing over here?”

Now the thing you have to understand is, from that first sentence, I loved John’s voice. He had this way of speaking that expressed a carefree attitude, and a sense of childish excitement. Giddiness. It was infectious.

The soft tone with which he spoke caught me by surprise, however. I mean, John was a solidly built dude who looked like he should have a much deeper voice. He was a little shorter than me at about 5’10”. Very stocky, like a rugby player. Well muscled, but not so defined that he looked like he tried to look that way. A little soft in the middle. He looked like a better than average guy.

Like an idiot I assumed he was going to mock my reading. “Trying to get through this shit class without being interrupted by the idiots in the room”.

He reared back, feigning offense. “Are you talking about me?”

I couldn't help but laugh. “No, apparently. I meant them.”

“Ok just checking. But really, why are you over here?”

I looked up and closed my book slowly. “I was reading, hoping time will go quicker”.

He smiled at me. “Construction isn't your thing?” He saw me about to reply, “No I get it, trust me. The only reason I took this class is because it's easy. I used to work for my uncle doing shit like this, so I don't really need to be here”.

We talked the last half of that class. I found out he was a year older than me, but that he was held back a year. And that his full name was Jonathan Nanez. We actually had advisory (our school's version of a homeroom class) together. I told him how I actually liked reading, and was taking some harder classes. He did sports and was excited about football season, something I wasn't ever really interested in.

Which reminds me, I guess I should tell you a bit about myself. Or at least, myself at the time. I hadn't finished growing yet, but at the time I was 6’ feet tall, weighed maybe 190 pounds. Wide shoulders, straight black hair that I always let get too messy, and dark brown eyes. An average 6 inch cock (I've since grown). I wasn't really attractive, but I wouldn't say I was repulsive either. Honestly I hadn't really grown into my features yet. Just kind of an average Joe.

Something that becomes relevant later on as well; I have a speech impediment. I have trouble saying the “r” sounds in words. They usually come out sounding like “w” sounds. So I would say things like wabbit, or woad. My friends have told me it isn't too bad, but I am still really embarrassed by it.

Enough about me, back to the story. I left construction feeling pretty good. I had met a really cool guy, who seemed chill. Now that I had a friend, the class didn't seem too bad. I figured it was the best I could hope for.

I saw John throughout the day in the halls, and talked to him some more in advisory. A close friend of mine, Alfredo, was also in my advisory, so I mostly talked with him. John had his own people to talk to.

Which is another thing, while I am nerdier, and way more hostile. John was social and laid back, he made everyone want to be his friend. He also attracted his fair share of attention from the girls in our school, but as far as I know, he never took any of them up on their offers.

The next day at school I actually looked forward to 4th period. Which was a mistake.

Not ten minutes into the class, a few wannabe gangsters in my grade got bored with whatever they were doing. So they came to pester me. I had at least 5 inches and 40 pounds on the biggest of them so I wasn't scared. However neither were they. When I started High School I promised my mom I would stop getting into trouble. Which meant no more fighting.

So I became a well known pacifist. The “cool kids” would tease me, and the jocks would berate me. I took it all in stride because it honestly did nothing more than make me angry. I was never hurt by any of it.

The topic of their harassment was my speech. Told you it would be relevant.

“Come on say rabbit. Or red. Or rectangle”. Their leader, Romero, was saying.

I sighed. “Instead of coming over here wasting your time trying to pick a fight, how about you go back and actually do your work before you flunk out like the rest of your family?”

That did not endear me to them. Romero made like he was going to swing (which I was ready for) but suddenly his arm was grabbed from behind and twisted around. I saw John behind him, calm as can be. “Leave him alone, he didn't do shit to you.”

John let him go and Romero faced him. I could tell he wanted to fight, but he wouldn't have had a chance. I wouldn't fight for myself but if they had attacked John right then and there I definitely would have helped him out.

He walked away after flipping us both off. John and I laughed. “Thanks” I told him.

“No problem, I swear I go to take a shit and come back to you guys about to throw down”.

“We were not going to 'throw down'”. I guffawed.

He smiled, all teeth and sunshine. “Uh huh,whatever you say.” He made to sit down and as he did so he put his hand on my shoulder. “Let me know and we can beat their ass together, ok?”

I still remember how flushed I felt at that moment. “Yeah, ok” I laughed it off. Before this point I never considered myself attracted to a guy. Like, I could tell you if a guy was hot or not, but I would never be attracted to one. Would never jack off to one. That changed that night in my bedroom.

In bed, blanket tangled around my ankles, boxers thrown haphazardly somewhere on the floor, my hand moving up and down as fast as I could go. I used to do it every night before I went to bed. At the time I thought that night was no different.

I had announced to my family I was going to sleep and walked into my bedroom. Locked the door and immediately stripped to boxers and a t-shirt. This was before I discovered Gaydemon (obviously) and before that I jerked off to fantasies in my head. I had a pretty good imagination.

That night all I could think about was John. I found him attractive, definitely. But more than that I was attracted to him as a person,a new experience.

I slowly started working my cock, fluffing it up. Languidly stroking up and down as I thought about him, his face, his strong arms. His hand on my shoulder. I imagined what it would be like to touch him. To be close to him. I worked up the pace as these thoughts ran through my head. Pretty soon I was breathing heavily and my hand was a tan blur in the dark of my bedroom. Precum oozed into my hand, which I sporadically rubbed around my prick as lubrication. My foreskin drawing down over my head, before swallowing it up again.

I fantasized it was John touching me, stroking my cock. Moving his thumb around the head. My other hand tugged my balls and I groaned loudly. Closer… closer… so close I could hardly breathe. After a few more strokes I came, gasping John's name and spewing cum over my hand. Two thick strings covering the back of my hand, a third dribbling down the length of my shaft.

As I lay heaving, I could think of only one thing. Construction was rapidly becoming my favorite class.

Author's Note: Sorry for no actual Sex in this one. I'm really trying to do this story justice. But it is my first attempt at writing a story so let me know what you think! All events are real so if you have any questions, feel free to email me!