Ryan and Eric
Chapter 11: Another date with Jennifer
It was Saturday, early in February, and Eric was working out in the late morning. Then he met Jennifer for lunch as planned. He’d suggested dinner and a movie-she’d said, “oh, I need to get some things at the mall. Why don’t we do that, and then see what happens later.” Eric translated that to mean that if he spent the afternoon at the mall like a good boy, Jennifer might reward him with dinner, a movie and . . . dessert.
The day went as he expected. The shopping went on and on, and he got more and more impatient. “Easy, easy,” he told himself—“girls dig it when you put up with all this stuff, and ‘oh-and-ah’ over what they buy. Be patient, and the payoff shall be yours,” he leered inwardly.
Finally, Jennifer had bought, or thought about buying, everything she possibly could. There’d even been one point of real pleasure for Eric—when they stopped at Abercrombie. Eric couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t majorly into Abercrombie. While Jennifer prowled the merchandise, the huge, black-and-white photographs in the store caught his eye. Here were guys he could respect—guys developed the way he aimed to be-defined, taut, not a bit of fat or flab. He stared with intense admiration at one picture: a group of guys playing touch football, most without shirts, their biceps popping, their pecs firm and round, their eight-packs rippling . . .
“Sweetie, I hope you look at me that way,” came Jennifer’s voice, bursting his reverie.
“Huh? Oh . . . uh, er . . . I was just noticing how ripped those guys are. I mean-that’s what I’m aiming for in my workouts, that’s all.”
“Pretty boy,” Jennifer cooed, as she placed her hand on Eric’s chest. “I don’t know where you’ve been, but—you could be one of those models.” Cupping her hand around his left pec, and giving it a sudden squeeze, she dropped her voice to a whisper: “in fact, you look a lot more luscious than all those boys put together!” In an instant, Eric’s face turned beet-red and he felt his member quickly swell and harden.
Jennifer poked around the tables at Abercrombie, “to see if there’s anything I should get for you—for being such a good boy!” Eric blushed, but waited patiently, watching the clerks, and the customers, and occasionally looking back at the posters. After a while, Jennifer picked out a shirt—“this’ll look great on you!”—and bought it for him.
She insisted he change into his new shirt before they left. “My pretty boy,” she cooed as they headed for the car.
Through dinner, Jennifer got more and more affectionate, her hands on Eric’s, and her knee playing with his under the table. At first it turned Eric on. But then, as they prepared to leave for Jennifer’s apartment, Eric found himself feeling strangely nervous. After all his talk, all his plans-maybe it was finally going to happen-he was going to lose his virginity at last! As they closed the distance to her apartment, as they moved toward her door, Jennifer grew more and more romantic, more physical-and Eric got more and more edgy. He couldn’t remember when he’d been so scared.
Inside, Jennifer practically threw herself in Eric’s arms. He responded-they kissed passionately, his mouth exploring hers as he’d done several times before. And yet-something was wrong. It should have gotten easier, and yet Eric found it getting harder instead. When they embraced at the door, his member was rock-hard, throbbing against Jennifer, who giggled with delight. As they moved toward the couch, he sensed himself losing his intensity. He willed himself to stay hard-he touched himself, moved himself against Jennifer, to keep himself aroused-but before long, he realized he was fighting a losing battle. As Jennifer’s hands moved toward his belt, and Eric realized the situation, with a surge of humiliation, he stopped her.
“What’s wrong? I’m ready. Tonight,” Jennifer exhaled, her hand tugging at his belt.
“No, ahh . . . uhhh . . . oh gosh—”
“What is it, honey?”
Eric’s face flushed a deep red. “I-I don’t know how to say this. I can’t believe I’m saying it-but-I can’t.”
“No, it’s all right. I want to-I really want to this time. I’m ready.”
“I know. I-uh—” Eric couldn’t finish. He hung his head.
Jennifer looked at him, questioningly, then it clicked. Neither said anything for an endless moment. Finally, Jennifer asked, “are you-are you sure?”
After a pause, Eric responded, “yeah. I’m sure.”
Jennifer was as kind as possible. “This was my first time, too” she reassured Eric. Nothing helped. Finally, Jennifer decided to let Eric end his misery and go home. “Please call me tomorrow,” she urged as he walked down the hallway.
A black cloud hung over Eric all the way home. “Damn! Damn!” was all he could say. When he got home, he didn’t even turn on a light. He tried to keep quiet, so he didn’t wake Ryan—but Ryan turned over and called out to him as he came in.
“How was your date tonight, Eric? Aren’t you home a little early?”
Eric blushed to recall the evening’s failure. He answered generally. “Well, it just ended earlier than I thought, that’s all.”
But Ryan refused to accept Eric’s hedging. And before long, Eric, tears in his eyes, was confessing everything to his friend, his mentor. And the more he unburdened himself, the more his friend’s calm, commanding presence soothed and reassured him. Just like always—his friend took charge and helped him find his way.
They talked for awhile. When the conversation ended at last, Eric felt none of his shame. Instead, he felt genuine, deep love—he wasn’t afraid to admit it—Ryan and he were that close. As usual, at conversation’s end, Eric was hazy in remembering exactly what had been said-his spoken words and the feelings stirred inside him all seemed, somehow, merged in this mind—as though Ryan had not only heard his words, but known his thoughts and feelings as well. But, no, that was impossible. Totally relaxed, Eric fell deeply asleep on his bed.
Chapter 12: All the signs
It had taken all week, but Eric finally called Jennifer. He fumbled an apology; she was kind about it. He had told himself he’d ask her for another date; and even as he spoke to her, he knew she was eager to say yes. But for some reason, he didn’t ask.
Eric had gotten in his workout before his classes; after a couple hours at the library, he headed across campus to meet a friend at the “Sign of the Whale.” He got there early, so he ordered a coke while he waited.
Eric was watching the door for his friend; instead, another familiar set of eyes met his—it was the red-haired boy…guy—from the gym! He felt a sudden flurry of butterflies in his stomach as he saw the boy—guy—walk his way. “What’s the big deal? I was bound to meet him sooner or later.”
“Hi, you alone?”
“Uh, yeah. I mean, I’m waiting for someone; but meanwhile... have a coke or something?”
“Sure. Yeah.”
“My name’s Eric.”
“I’m Drew.” They shook hands.
“I feel like I know you already,” Eric said. At Drew’s questioning glance, Eric realized he’d said more than he wanted. He fumbled an explanation. “I mean, cause I see you at the gym.” Eric felt his face warm when he said that, remembering vividly just how he’d seen him.
“Sure, I feel the same,” Drew responded, innocently. “I mean, we work out the same time a lot, know each other’s routines, but never actually talked!”
They chatted awhile. In the friendliness of the conversation, Eric forgot about his earlier uneasiness. He noticed, for the first time, that the boy’s—Drew’s—eyes were blue. They were a particularly deep, rich blue, he considered, as they talked. After a few minutes, it was like they were old friends. They talked about routine stuff, and yet-there was an energy, an excitement; Eric felt sure Drew and he could be good friends, close friends even. Here was a guy just like himself, into so many of the same things, above all, working out and looking good.
So absorbed by the conversation was Eric he never realized how his eyes occasionally moved from Drew’s eyes, to the rest of his body. He’d never seen Drew in clothes for more than an instant—so this was a fresh sight for him. Without realizing it, he was approving of all he saw-including the fullness of his crotch, which Eric glimpsed once, then twice.
“Well, I have to go—I’m sorry your friend is late. I hope he makes it!”
With that, Drew put a couple of bucks on the bar, and turned to leave. Eric watched him go, briefly admiring his butt as he went.
He heard his name and looked up. “Hey, Kevin! ’Bout time, dude!” His long-delayed buddy and he shook hands.
After Kevin got a drink, he asked, “say, who was that guy you were talking to just now?”
“Huh? Oh, just some guy I know from the gym. Never really talked to him before tonight. Just happened to run into him here. Why do you ask?”
“’Just happened to run into you,’ huh?” Kevin said with sarcasm. “Yeah, I bet.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on, dude, I mean, it’s obvious.”
Eric looked questioning.
“Dude—he followed you here, man!”
“What? No, I didn’t even come from the gym just now. I came straight from my place. Besides—he’s just a guy I know; why would he follow me?”
“Hello! Anybody home?” Kevin said, pretending to knock on Eric’s head. “I guess I have to spell it out for you. The guy’s hot for you, dude!”
“What?!? C’mon!”
“You mean you can’t see that? He’s so obvious!”
“Obvious what? You mean gay?”
“Well, duh! Don’t tell me you couldn’t tell!”
Eric shifted uncomfortably.
“Well, no, not really. I mean—I guess if they’re really obvious, but…”
“Well, that one was ‘really obvious.’”
“Really? Gee, I totally missed it.” Even as he said that, Eric asked himself just how he had missed it.
“Yeah, well, dude—I mean, you sure did!” Kevin said, making them both laugh. I mean, if I didn’t know you, you know, it was you, I’d have been sure you were both, you know...”
“Yeah, right!”
“I mean, the way he was touching you, and you were touching him—”
“What??? C’mon, you’re pulling my leg. I wasn’t touching him...”
“C’mon dude, I saw you as soon as I came in. I called out to you, but you couldn’t hear me. It took me awhile to get to you, but I saw you guys talking. You were talking like, well, more than friends, grabbing his arm, he grabbed yours...”
Eric was genuinely puzzled. He didn’t recall touching Drew at all except for two handshakes. As Kevin kept talking, Eric gradually remembered more. How had he not been aware of touching Drew so many times?
“...well, as I say—it’s not like you’re gay. But, you know, if you don’t want to have them following you around all the time, you gotta get rid of the A&F stuff...”
“Why?”
“Gee whiz, you are dense. Don’t you know they love that stuff?”
“Huh. You seem to know an awful lot about it, man...”
“Yeah, right. I read something about it in Detail. Enough for me to decide I’m not gonna wear anymore Fitch stuff...”
Kevin kept talking, as he usually did, while Eric mostly listened-which, as usual, suited Kevin fine. But Eric also thought back. Was Drew really that obvious? And if he was gay-how had Eric missed it?
Chapter 13: The Disaster
It had been weeks since he’d seen Jennifer. Spring Break came and went, then school started again. When she finally got tired of waiting for Eric to call, she called him. He’d been really busy, he explained—but if it was important to her... He was busy with school, with his workouts; but really, he was gun-shy from their last date. He wondered if she wanted to try it again. And he wondered if he’d fail, again.
Not that he still didn’t want to go to bed with her. He did, more than ever. He seemed hornier than ever.
“I need to get laid,” Eric had told himself. And, whatever went wrong the last time, Jennifer was a great girl. He was so horny, he knew there was no way he could mess it up this time.
Jennifer told him her roommate was going out; how about coming over for some pizza? She’d take care of everything. She did everything right. She looked hot; and she was eager to share herself with Eric. She wanted him every bit as much as he thought he wanted her.
But the more he tried, the worse it got. He couldn’t believe it. He practically had a raging hard-on when he showed up. By the time they were deep kissing, he felt it start to flag. “Damn!” he thought.
Eric wasn’t going to give up this easily. He reached down, putting his hand between himself and Jennifer. Jennifer thought he was trying to touch her, when really, he was trying to keep himself hard. It worked for awhile.
They kissed, their hands roaming all over each other. Jennifer whispered and moaned in Eric’s ear: this was what she’d been waiting for, she encouraged him. Eric did his best, but his mind wandered. He tried to think of something to keep him aroused. He remembered when he last came. He pictured it: himself standing before the mirror, jacking off. He instantly got hard; Jennifer felt it and squealed with delight. Eric moved over her face and shoulders, kissing, nibbling, keeping the image of his own cock in his mind.
He lost himself in the moment, the image in his mind became center-stage; he felt himself growing more and more intense, he felt it building. He saw a cock, full, hard, throbbing . . .
Then it hit him like a train. It wasn’t his cock; it was...Drew.
Just then Jennifer’s hand gripped his hard-on through his pants. She’d begun to manipulate him as she reached to undo his belt and his pants. And at just that moment, a spasm ripped through Eric’s body. He reared back, crying out. He fired huge volleys of cum against the inside of his pants as Jennifer gripped him. She hadn’t expected this, but, she adapted. She lowered her mouth to his crotch, and felt him spasm against her face. She could taste his seed soaking through his pants. She moaned as he continued to fire.
The moment carried Eric away completely. His body shuddering uncontrollably, he cried out, “Oh my god, Drew! Oh god, oh god...”
Jennifer pulled away from him.
“Who . . . the hell . . . is Drew?!?” Jennifer spat the words at him. Eric, coming to himself, not comprehending at first, then realizing...couldn’t say a word.
“Get...the fuck ... OUT-OF-HERE! NOW!!!”
“No, Jennifer, wait…it’s not…”
“You fucking queer. And to think I felt sorry for you. No wonder! I can’t believe I—Just LEAVE! PLEASE!” At that, Jennifer burst into tears.
Eric, shaken to his core, quickly left. Only when he was almost home did he realize the snickers he heard around him were aimed at him; specifically, the huge wet spot radiating from his crotch; and the still sizable erection he had.
When he got home, he didn’t even think about it. He changed from his soiled clothes, into pajama bottoms. Ryan wasn’t home, he had a date too. He tried to sleep, but couldn’t. He was still awake when Ryan came home.
Somehow, he felt the need to tell Ryan all about it. He didn’t know how to begin the conversation; somehow, Ryan did. He told Ryan the date had been a disaster. He didn’t want to tell Ryan why. He couldn’t face the thought of what Ryan would think of that. Ryan didn’t press. After a few minutes, it didn’t matter. It seemed like Ryan understood. Eric felt peace fill him, as he found it always did, whenever he talked with Ryan. Ryan told Eric to sleep, and to dream good dreams. “Yes sir,” Eric murmured. “Good boy,” Ryan replied.
In the end, Eric couldn’t remember how much he had told Ryan; only that it didn’t matter. Ryan was the one friend he could trust. Eric fell fast asleep. Somehow, as he fell asleep, the drawstring on his pajamas opened. The night air enveloped his rising member. He dreamed good dreams. “Drew,” he cried, softly. “Ryan.” Eric fired twice more that evening. But he kept sleeping. When he awoke, Eric did not find his pajamas stained, or any residue on his stomach. He did not remember his dreams—only that they had been “good dreams.” He awoke with his hand in his mouth, and a comforting taste on his lips.
Eric didn’t even consider calling Jennifer after that. It was over. And, after trying to think of a way to explain what had happened and failing, he realized there really was nothing he could say—so he left it alone.
Ryan and he got together that evening after dinner; Ryan told him to forget about Jennifer. For some reason Eric didn’t reflect upon, Ryan never asked what had caused their breakup. Even though Eric was pretty sure he’d kept the most embarrassing details to himself, it sure seemed like Ryan knew the whole picture.
But Eric was too busy enjoying the company of his oldest, best friend to notice such details. He was thrilled to hear Ryan’s compliments on the progress of his workout regimen.
“You know, I’m the one who gave you that idea,” Ryan told Eric.
“Really? I don’t remember that. I thought it was my idea.”
“Don’t you remember? It was back in high school—I told you to get in shape. You didn’t want to, but I made you do it. Now, look at you, buddy!”
Eric blushed. “Thanks. Guess I’m good at taking orders, Sir” Eric said with a mock salute.
“Yes indeed—better and better, in fact!”
“Thanks,” Eric said, his blush deepening.
As they talked, Eric found himself looking intently at his friend. Ryan had always been in shape, ever since high school when he lettered two years in football, one in baseball, one in lacrosse. As Ryan talked, Eric found himself remembering his brown-haired, broad-shouldered friend as he was in high school. In his mind’s eye, he saw Ryan, tall, muscular, strong, in his football gear. He recalled his broad chest; back in high school, Ryan had the kind of pecs Eric was just building for himself now. And while Eric had to shave himself clean, Ryan had always had a clean, hairless chest. He remembered him Ryan in the locker room, in his athletic supporter. Eric felt suddenly warm.
Eric stared deeply into Ryan’s eyes, so deep he forgot himself. Without realizing it, he stopped talking altogether and just listened. He was in a trance, in fact. Ryan stopped talking, too. He looked Eric over, head to toe, as he stood motionless at attention before him. “Good boy,” Ryan murmured, as he watched Eric’s crotch pulse in response.
Ryan left Eric asleep on his couch. “Dream good dreams, boy” he whispered to him.