My Discovery

I walked along the long fence line, my heavy repair bucket in my 15-year-old hands.  The bucket contained two hammers, to pull the heavy staples out, heavy duty wire cutters, to cut the barbed wire, 8” lengths of wire, and a pile of wire staples and other miscellanies supplies.

If I did not keep the fence repaired the cattle would quickly find the hole in the fence and run all over the fucking countryside.  Once they found a hole, they would run through it and then run and jump like they had been freed from tyranny and run as far as they could get.

My dad did not care, he was not the one who, at all hours of the night or day, would have to go running after the crazed beasts.  That is why I was out here on this fence line making sure the wire was tight and there were no breaks.  I knew I was the one who would have to go chasing the stupid fucking beasts down.

Ok, so let me just get this out there.  If you are an anti meat person, I know that you have not chased a stupid fucking cow, that is running around, not going where she knows you want her to go, just to fuck with your head.  These beasts can be evil, especially if they know you have plans.

My mind kept wandering back to the night before.  I had my good friend Chase over for the night.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  We played church softball together.  My family was very religious.  We went to church three times a week.  Chase had wavy blond hair, an athletic build and very handsome.  I had never thought of him in a sexual way till he climbed into my double bed for the night.

His warm arm would brush against mine.  I could smell his scent as I tried to fall asleep.  I listened to his slow rhythmic breathing.  Why was my cock hard?  Nothing made sense.

This is before the internet made us all wiser before our years.  Let me give you an example of life before the “net”.  My family went down to visit my dad’s parents a couple of hours away.  They lived on a large beef cattle farm out in the sticks away from any other civilization.   My grandfather and my dad were walking around on the property and my dad asked, “who’s car is that?”

My grandfather proceeded to say that some kids had run the car into the bridge on the road in front of his property and had come to the house to ask for help.  He had takin his tractor down to pull them off the bridge and towed the undrivable car onto the property, for them to pick up later.  He could tell the kids were drunk.  They said they would be back in a couple of days to get the car.

It had been a month, and no one had shown up.  My dad asked if he had gone through the car to see if it contained any information on who they were.  My grandfather had not, so the three of us went out to the vehicle to investigate.

“They left me the keys.”  Said my grandfather as he opened the doors.  Nothing was there, so he opened the trunk.  In it he found a canister of polaroid pictures.  “Hey here is the guy who left the car.” My grandfather said looking at the first picture.

“And that is the girl that was with him.” As my dad and I looked into the trunk.

“Looks like they have lost some clothes” He chuckled, as he thumbed through the pictures.

“OH MY GOD!  IS SHE GOING TO PUT THAT THING IN HER MOUTH?”  My grandpa exclaimed with such excitement that it was obvious to me he had never heard of such a thing.  “I gotta go show this to Sal.”  He yelled as he ran off to the house to show the photo to my grandmother.

Let me tell you Sal, my grandmother was not too pleased with the photos.  She shot the grinning man many a death glare through out the day and night.

I walked along the fence line making repairs, swatting the ever-present mosquitoes and black flies.  The thoughts of Chase were wrong, why did they keep coming back?  Why did the picture of his wide pecs pop into my head when I masturbated?  I knew it was wrong to have such thoughts.  I forced myself to think of something else.

I thought back to jr high.  I was about the youngest in our 8th grade class of 60 students in the small country school, and a late bloomer at that.  Only 5’ tall and 90 pounds, zero body fat.  It was all sinew and lithe muscles from playing competitive hockey and working every day on the farm. 

I remember the day when Keenan came to school.  His family had just moved to the area. He was close to 6’ tall and long brown hair that touched the top of his broad shoulders.  He was the man among boys and the girls flocked around him.  In gym class I fought to keep my eyes off his smooth sweaty chest as we played shirts vs skins in the all-boys gym class.  I could not understand why my concentration was gone, my heart in my throat, and what the hell was up with that hard thing in my pants?

High school was in the only city in the county and it pulled students in from a 30-mile radius.  I knew a lot of kids, all those from my jr high, as well as from the larger church we attended in town.  Plus, in our northern city, a stone throw from Canada, everyone played hockey, so I knew all those guys too.

I went from a little freshman around 5’ and almost 100 pounds, to 5’6 as a sophomore, to 5’8 as a junior and 5’10” as a senior at 145 pounds.  My body still contained no fat, and my muscles were well defined.  I had firm pecs and a very visible six pack.  Dark brown wavy hair, a strong nose and crisp jaw line.  I loved the complement of the ladies, turning their heads to watch me walk by and I would flash them my handsome smile.

The handsome guys got my attention too, but I got very good at looking away.  ‘What if they saw me looking?  Why did I want to look?’  I did not know why, and I scared me, undermined my confidence.  I sure as fuck was not going to discuss it with anyone.

One day in the spring I was walking between the school buildings.  I was late for class and the sidewalk had few students left on it.  It was a sunny warm day and I had chosen to wear a shirt some family had given us.  New clothes were a luxury we rarely had.  The shirt was shaped like a T-shirt but was some material that was stretchy and had small holes all over it as part of the design. I liked how it showed off my body, and the looks it would draw from the babes. 

As I walked along, I looked up and saw Guy coming toward me.  He was one of the stars of the school basketball team, so of course he was tall, but also handsome.  I knew who he was, but I do not think we had ever talked. 

He stopped and said “hey Braydon.  How have you been?”  Flashing a broad smile across his handsome face. 

“Hey Guy,” ‘Why the fuck was he talking to me?’  I thought as my nerves kicked in.

“A little late for class?”

“Yeah, couldn’t get my stupid locker open.”

“That is some shirt.  It really shows off your body.  Do you like showing off your body?”  He was staring deeply into my eyes.

“Ah, thanks.  I better get going.”  I raced off, my face burning.  ‘What the fuck was that?  Was he making fun of me?  Did he not like my shirt?’  Never did it occur to me that the hot stud was hitting on me.  That kind of thing would never happen in our small town, let alone our high school.

By the time I had attended the local college I had lost my virginity to a couple of nice girls.  The sex was good, don’t get me wrong, as a horny teenager the crack in a sugar maple tree was hot as fuck.  Anything warm and moist on my hard cock was fucking fantastic.

I was the first in my family to graduate from college and moved four hours away to pursue my career.  I moved up quickly from hard work and building a great team around me.

When I received the word that I was going to get a new store assignment in a small town, I was ecstatic.  I was only 22 and had my own store.  I was expected to hire a new team to run the new store.

I set up interviews for all the new employees.  When I saw Grant walk in my heart stopped.  He had bushy blond hair, poor fitting clothes, was about 6’ tall, and amazing blue eyes.  His body was smooth and sensual. 

‘What the fuck was I thinking?’

He had the handshake of a dead fish, but I looked into his eyes and I was hooked.

I trained my new team for the month before the store opened.  Grant must have spent his first few paychecks on new clothes and a better haircut.  His bushy hair was now nicely feathered and made him look older than his 20 years.  He was getting hotter by the week.  ‘Wait, hot?  No.  He was just a friend and was looking better with his new look.  That was all there was to it.  Thoughts of anything else were wrong.’

Grant and I started hanging out more and more.  We would hit the local bars and began to make it a contest to pick up women.  More often than not we would strike out with our half-hearted effort.  We spent the summer doing all kinds of stuff together.  When we had too much to drink he would crash at my small house on the edge of town, staying in my spare bedroom, rather than driving the 15 miles to his parents’ house.

I knew my feelings for him were growing more and more.  The more they grew, the more I fought them.  It seemed like whenever we were alone, something would come up, intentionally, and we would get to wrestling.  I loved the excuse to get to hold him, or he me, when we finally tired out from trying to get the other pinned.  My cock would get so hard and I could see the bulge in his pants.  Later I would always swear to myself that we would not do that again.  It created an arousal that I knew was wrong.

After a fun night at the bar and dancing with some hot babes, Grant and I went back to my place and had a couple more drinks and a frozen pizza.  I went to bed, with him crashed in my spare bedroom. 

The next morning, I got dressed and made some coffee.  Grant was still sound asleep.  I looked through the open door at his blond hair splayed out on the pillow and his muscular arm laying on top of the covers.  I went in and sat on the edge of his bed.

“You ever going to get up, bitch?”

“No.  The bed is nice and warm and it’s too early.”  He said sleepily.

“Come on.” I said, unconvincingly as I pushed on his chest.  He rolled toward me on his side, pushing my arms behind him.  I crawled over him and lay down on top of the covers, next to the wall.  The heat from his body and his rhythmic breathing and I was soon asleep, next to him in the small twin bed.

When I awoke, he was on his back, and my right arm was across his chest, with his left hand on top of my arm.  My chin was on his right shoulder and my breath was on his neck.  His scent was intoxicating.  I froze.  ‘Was he asleep?  How did my arm get across him, my hand on his pec?  Did I just feel him snuggle tighter against me?  His hand push downward on my arm, tightening the contact with his body?’

As his body moved closer, my lips were now pressed to his neck.  I kissed it very lightly.  ‘Did I just hear him moan?’  I kissed his long neck again, with a little more pressure.  ‘Ok, that time he moaned for sure.’

I ran my hand across his chest, feeling every muscle.  My mind was going crazy.  His warm scent, the feeling of his skin and the heat radiating from his body were making my granite hard cock leak out enough pre cum to dampen the front of my jeans.

I moved my mouth up and licked his ear lobe.  He moaned again.  I licked again and then sucked it into my mouth.  The hot stud was moaning steadily now.  It drove me to be even more daring.  I stuck my tongue into his ear and licked like it was a pussy.  He was moaning loudly and writhing in the bed.

He grabbed me and pulled me on top of him, my legs between his, his head turned so I could still eat out his ear.  I could feel his hard cock pressed against mine.  I pushed my hips forward and he groaned louder.  I began to dry hump between his spread thighs.  Suddenly I felt his hand against my hard cock.  The first time anyone, other than myself had felt my hard cock.  It felt so fucking great I thought I was going to cum right then.

Grant then grabbed my shirt and pulled it over my head.  He tore at my jeans to get them undone and unzipped.  I pushed them off along with my underwear and his sleep shorts.  I was so horned up, but I was terrified.  ‘Where was this going?  I was naked with a man and our cocks were hard and dripping.  I have to stop this and get out of here.’

Like in slow motion I saw Grant turn his athletic body and I saw the back of his head, his messy hair hovering above my cock.  Then I felt it.  His warm wet lips and tongue on the head of my cock.  “Holy fuck!”  He moved his hips and his cock was right in front of my face. 

I remember the smell.  The smell of sex.  His masculine scent filled my nose.  I took hold of his hard hot cock and put it in my untrained virgin mouth.  I licked and sucked for all I was worth.  The pleasure I was feeling on my cock were pushing me over the edge.

The first blast flooded his virgin mouth.  He quickly pulled off and the second blast hit his hair on the side of his head.  He jumped up from the bed and ran down the hall to the bathroom.  I lay there in shock.  ‘What the fuck just happened?’

I dressed quickly and went into the kitchen.  Grant, now dressed walked silently to the door.  “Grant?”  He ignored me and walked out the door, a large gob of cum on the side of his head.

I paced the floor trying to make sense of it all.  ‘Did I just lose my best friend?  Why did I lay down in his bed?  Why did his body feel so great?  What the fuck was wrong with me?  It was him that crossed the line by grabbing my cock, taking off my pants and putting his mouth on my cock, I reasoned.’

The day passed slowly as I tortured myself with all the possible meanings of the morning event.  Sleep did not happen that night, just tossing and turning.

When I saw him at work the next day, everything seemed normal.  We talked as if nothing had happened.  I invited him over for a beer after work.  When we cracked the beer he said. “That will never happen again.”

“Damn right it won’t.”  I said sternly.

“If it does, I will never come over here again.”  I felt that one.  It hurt me.  ‘Was I to blame?  Did he blame me?’  I didn’t want it to happen again either.  It was wrong.’

Try as I may my mind would not let me forget it.  Constantly bringing up the image, the feelings at the worst possible times.  Making my cock hard, wanting, needing to cum.

A week later we came home from the bar and were hanging out at my place watching TV.  He threw a pillow at me for something I said, and we began to wrestle around.  Soon he was on top of me and I could feel his hard cock pressing against mine.  I knew he could feel my hard cock as he gyrated his hips rubbing them together. 

I was afraid to move.  I didn’t want him to think I wanted it to happen again and have him rush out and never come back.  He laid beside me on his back on the floor.  He undid his pants and pushed them down to his knees, then did the same to mine.  He grabbed my cock and began to stroke it.  I reached over and did the same for him.

Soon I was pumping cum all over my face my abs and chest.  Grant moaned and began to shoot too.  He handed me a box of Kleenex.  “Looks like you are going to need a few of these.”

“Yeah, you too.”  My anxiety eased a little.

“I’m going to hit the hay.”  He stated.

“Yeah me too.”  I was so relieved.  He wasn’t freaked out like last time.  I mean, we just jacked off.  Was it that different that we did each other, rather than pounding our own meat?

A couple of days later we are driving around drinking a few beers.  I pulled into a small park by the dark beach to take a piss.  We sat there bull shitting when I felt his hand on my leg.  I was hard instantly, and he began to rub my bulge.  I reached over and rubbed his.  Soon we had our pants down and were jacking each other in my car.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”  The first shot splatted against the ceiling of the car and the rest up on my shirt and abs.  Minutes later he came, most of it on my hand and his abs. 

“Did you hit the ceiling?”

“Yeah I think so.”

“I wish I could shoot that far and cum as much as you do.”

I had never thought about it, but now that he mentioned it, there was a big difference in the force and amount of the two of our ejaculations.  I did not know if that had any meaning or not.

That fall he rented a small house about four blocks away from mine.  We got it all cleaned up and moved his stuff in.  His first place away from home.  I was proud of him and shared in his happiness.

We went out for a cruise around the back country roads.  It was a cool night and it always felt so good to be around Grant.  I was driving along and I reached over and laid my hand on his thigh.  He did not move or remove it.  I began to rub his leg.

He reached over and undid my jeans an began to push them down.  I lifted up off the seat a little so he could push them down as I drove along.  He looked at me with a devilish smile, leaned over and took my cock in his mouth.  Fuck!  Road head.  Something every red-blooded American boy dream of.  I just never expected to be getting it from another red-blooded American boy.

It was not long, and I was pumping him a mouth full of hot cum.  When his mouth was full, he promptly spit it back out all over my cock, balls and on my cloth seat.  “Fuck!  What the hell?  Look at the mess you made.”

When we got back to my house, I playfully grabbed him and looked into his eyes.  “Now it’s time for project ‘make Grant cum.’”  Clothes were shed as we made our way to my bedroom.  I kneeled on the floor and took him into my mouth.  He groaned as I sucked and licked on his hard cock.  I rubbed my hands up and down his thick thighs covered in light blond hair.

“Get up on the bed and lay down on your stomach.”  He said.  “Hold your legs tight together.”  He began to slide his hard cock between my thighs.  “This is great, but not slick enough.  I’ll be right back.”  He returned with some shampoo.  He slicked up his cock and my thighs and began to thrust in between my tightly clenched thighs.

“Can you get them tighter together?”

“That’s as tight as I can get them.”  He was thrusting up higher now, hitting my balls and sliding against them.

Then I felt his slick cock moving up higher.  Soon it was pressed against my virgin hole.  He pulled my slim waist up some to create a better angle.  I froze.  I was scared but wanted to please him.  After all I had already pumped a load in his mouth that night.

He pushed harder.  I knew there was no way his big cock would ever fit in my tiny ass.  If I had ever given birth to a piece of shit as big as his cock it would have killed me.  He pushed harder.

All the sudden my outer muscle gave way and his large mushroom head breached my severely stretched virgin pussy.  “Oh god that hurts.  Don’t go any further.  It’s burning.”

“Are you OK?  Should I pull out?  You are so hot and so tight.”  I gripped the mattress, every one of my muscles tense.  The pain subsided a tiny bit.  “Ok, push in a little more, but go slow.  I don’t think I can take it all.  You’re too big.”

“Thanks.”  Grant laughed and pushed in another couple of inches.

I felt so full as his cock slowly but surely sank deeper and deeper into my virgin chute.    Soon I felt his pubic hairs against my cock-full ass.  He pulled out a couple of inches and pushed back in.  He thrusts got longer and harder as the fuck got under way. 

I could hear the slapping of skin and his body pushing into me with force as he got close.  Finally he shouted.  “FUCK!”  And he bred my ass, pumping his seed into me.

It was never sure thing, the sex between us.  We were both fighting with our own demons as to why this was wrong.  I kept forcing it from my mind, replacing it with ‘it was just sex.  No different than beating off.  Just releasing sperm.’  I was kidding myself.

A couple of days later we were wrestling around, and he led me back to my bedroom.  I was hoping that we could even the score, and I would fuck him.  We were laying on the bed in a 69 and he suddenly sat up.  I reached out to him.  He violently shoved me.  I flew off the bed and crashed into the wall. 

“We’ve got to stop this.”  He cried, got dressed and left.  I was crushed.

A few days later, everything seemed fine again.  He told me that he was going to ask out a woman who worked at the store next door.  She was slightly older than us, in her late twenties, but was known to ‘get around’ when her husband was out of town.  I was shocked.  “You would go out with a married woman?”

“Sure, she wants to.”

“You think that is a good idea?  What if her husband finds out?”  I implored.

“I’m sure it will be fine.  Besides she is hot.”  He grinned trying to lighten the mood.  I was sure that he was just bluffing.

A friend of ours was having a party at his house Saturday night.  “Are you going to Nick’s party?”  I asked Grant. 

“No, I think I might have a date.”

“Yeah sure you do.”  I joked.

It was around eleven Saturday night.  Nick’s parties usually went on well past 3AM.  I was enjoying my fourth beer and having a good time, when I looked across the room and my eyes locked with Grants’.  He was walking in with Shelly, smiling and laughing, his arm on her back.

My heart stopped.  I was sick to my stomach.  My mouth was dry.  It was like I was just hit upside the head with a 2x4.  I am sure all the color drained from my face.  Grant was closer now and I could see the concern on his face, as he kept looking over at me, while acknowledging other mutual friends. 

“Hey man.  Cool party.  I brought Shelly.”  He said smiling.

I thought I was going to hurl.  I got up and walked into the kitchen.  “Great party as always Nick, but I gotta bounce.”

“What?  Already?  You are always good till the last dog is hung.”

“I know bro, but my stomach is not feeling good.  I gotta get home.”

“You’re leaving?”  Grant said quietly.  “You don’t have to, we’ll go.”

I walked out the door and drove home.  All the feelings that I had suppressed for months came boiling to the top.  Tears were running down my cheeks as I glared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.  “You fucking faggot.”  I seethed, my voice dripping with hate.  “You are just friends who occasionally have meaningless sex?  You fucking liar.  You would not feel this way if that were true.”  I grabbed the glass off the counter and threw it at the wall, shattering it in a million pieces. 

My conversation continued with the hated person in the mirror.  “You said you were upset only because she was married.  Bull shit!  You love him, you fucking faggot!”  I screamed.  “Admit it.  You love him and he doesn’t love you.”  I dropped to the floor sobbing.

The next day I got out of bed like a zombie.  Life no longer had meaning.  I had been taught all my life how deviant my actions were.  I knew my family would reject me, hate me.  I was sure of this.  Even if someone in my extended family accepted me, what would it matter?  I hated myself.  I had to put an end to this, but after months of trying I knew there was only one way.

I went to work in a daze.  It seemed like everyone was outside of this bubble I was in.  I could see them and hear them, but it was like I really wasn’t there.  Grant invited me to lunch, but I said I was going home to eat.  I sat at home for an hour and went back.  I had zero interest in food.

Leaving work at five, I never left on time, Grant bounded up to me.  “Do you want to get a beer tonight?” as we walked across the parking lot.

“No,”

“Are you OK?  Look I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was bringing Shelly to the party.  Why did you leave?”

I knew damn well he knew why, but it was too late.  Nothing mattered anymore.

“Have a nice life.”  I turned and got in my car.

The next two days I went to work and came home.  Word was starting to get around the store that I was depressed or something.  Maybe I was sick.  I knew I had to get better at hiding my feelings or my plans would be ruined.  I worked hard on smiling and talking to people.  Grant however, I could hardly look at.  Talking to him took my breath away.  It would be easier on him if he thought our friendship was on the outs.

Across the road from my house was a large, wooded area where you could hunt small game this time of year.  On my Wednesday off I scouted it for a location that would suit my plan.  I found a secluded spot that was not visible from the road or from any trail.  It was surrounded by thick undergrowth and had a large broken tree limb laying on the ground.  Perfect.

I had to work Thursday, Friday, Saturday and had Sunday off.  It took all of my strength to fake happiness those three days.  I knew I had to eat something sometime or that would raise a red flag.  I decided I would try to eat something Sunday morning.

Friday after work I mailed off all my bills.  I thought about making out of will for my few prized belongings, but I knew that might draw attention.  Everything had to look normal.  ‘The only thing worse than being a faggot, is being a faggot who committed suicide.’ 

I thought about how the news would affect my family.  My parents losing their child.  How does a parent deal with that?  ‘Better than finding out he is a fag.’  I thought.  It would be tough on my grandmother on my mom’s side.  We were very close.  I called her every week at her home in Florida where she lived alone.  My grandpa had passed years earlier.  I went down every spring for a week and cleaned up her large yard and did the long list of odd jobs she would have listed for me.  She thought I walked on water.  I could not let her know what I was.  I would never want to see disappointment in that dear ladies’ eyes.

Sunday morning came.  I was ready.  I forced down some food, so my stomach was not empty.  I went through my plan again in my head.  My two biggest worries were; It had to look like an accident, and I must not survive. 

I would shoot my gun like I had missed the game, then having forgot to put the safety back on, I would trip over the tree branch, land on the gun and blow a hole through my fucking heart.  It would all be over in seconds.  The pain would be gone along with the shame.

I put on my hunting vest, boots and hat.  I loaded the gun with shells.  I looked at the second shell.  It was weird, but it looked different.  It carried so much meaning for my meaningless life.  It would take away so much pain.  I finished loading and reached down to pick up the shotgun. 

The gun felt heavy as I lifted it and opened the door.  For some reason my eyes went to my mailbox.  I had not got the mail yesterday.  Another thing that I did every day.  I set the gun back inside the house and walked across the road to get the mail one last time.

On the way back to the house I mindlessly thumbed through the junk mail and bills to a letter with familiar handwriting.  It was from my grandmother.  I sat in my chair looking at the letter.  Why would she be writing me.  We spoke on the phone every week for an hour.  That is I would call her and she would talk for an hour, while I listened to her sweet voice.

‘Should I open it?  Of course, I should.  I would never leave a letter from her unopened.’  Thinking straight was not my strong suit these last few days.  Only one thing mattered, and I was about to get that task completed.

I opened the letter and began reading.  A few sentences popped out through my tear-filled eyes.  ‘I am so proud of you.  You will find the right person for you, I know you don’t think so, but I know you will.  It is darkest just before dawn.  It is the same way with life.  When you think things couldn’t possibly get worse is right before something wonderful happens.’

‘How could she know?  I had not talked to anyone in my family for them to hear any ‘sadness’ in my voice.  On my weekly call with my grandmother, she always did all the talking, so it could not have been anything I said.  I put the letter back in the envelope and laid it on the table. 

I picked up the shotgun and headed across the road.  I got to my spot and looked around.  I hadn’t seen anyone yet, so that was a good sign.  I picked out a small pile of leaves on the ground and fired.  The shot rang out and I racked out the first shell.  I began walking toward the fallen tree branch, soon to be the spot I died.

I looked up at the sky and said.  “I’m sorry.”  I stepped over the branch and placed the butt of the gun on the ground.  I leaned over the barrel with the end pressed against my left chest.  I pushed against the trigger.  Nothing.  I pushed harder.  Nothing.  I knew I was not pushing hard enough.  The words from the letter kept running through my mind.  How could it have arrived that day?  Was it some kind of sign?

The gun lay pressed against my chest for what seemed like 40 minutes, but I am sure it had to have been less.  I couldn’t do it.  I did not have the strength to push that fucking trigger harder.  I had failed.

My boots shuffled through the leaves on the cold grey day as I trudged back to the house.  As I got closer, I saw another car in my driveway.  It was Grant’s.  ‘How could I face him right now?   I should go back into the woods until he leaves and…’

“Hey there you are.”  He yelled from my porch. 

“Hey.”

“Did you get anything?”

I looked at him with a confused look on my face.  “What?”

“I assume you were hunting rabbits or squirrel.”

“Oh, no.  Shot the gun once, just to see if I could hit something.”

We walked into the house together.

“Look, I’m not going out with her again.”

“Dude, you don’t…”

“Please Braydon, let me finish.  It was dumb anyway.  A married woman?  I was just looking for something easy.  I took her straight home from the party, though she practically begged me to take her back to my place.  When I refused, she even tried to blow me while I was driving.  I had to like, push her away.”

“Is this supposed to be making me feel better?”

“It scared me.”

“What scared you?”

“Us.”  He whispered.  “I think about you all the time.  When we, you know, do things together, I can’t get enough.  That part of my brain takes over, but then I know that it is wrong, and I try to stop, but I can’t.  As soon as we are apart, I start thinking about the next time I will see you.  I saw the look on your face when I showed up with Shelly at Nick’s party.  I saw the pain and knew I caused it.  I am so sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.  It is my fucked-up feelings that were the problem.”

“I tried to talk to you so many times since that night, but you wouldn’t let me.  You just kept walking away.  I wanted to tell you, well I hope I don’t fuck up those feelings more, but the reason I have been acting so crazy, throwing you against the wall when we were in the middle of, you know – and I am so sorry about that too.  Going out with Shelly to try to be someone who I am not.  Trying to prove that I am not in love with you.”  Tears were running down Grant’s handsome face.  “Can you ever forgive me?”

“You are in love with me?”

“Yes, I know.  I’m sorry.  But I can’t help it.  If you want me to leave, I will.  I just thought you should know.  I can’t fight the feeling anymore.”

I got to my feet and walked across the room.  I lifted his chin and pressed our lips together for a long passionate kiss.  “I love you too, Grant.”

The End.