I FINALLY DANCED
By Zachyboy
b/b, romantic, oral, anal

The last dance of the school year was almost over.  I looked around the
gym...dark lights, crepe paper streamers, kids huddled in close, sweet
embraces.  I was more interested in watching other people's love stories
unfold than I was in finding a partner of my own. What a sweet, pretty
heartache to see that many middle-schoolers so sweetly in love. Or maybe it
was just lust at that age, with their hormones raging. But from where I
sat, at least it looked like love. And it was sad-sweet to
watch. Beautiful, but it hurt my heart deeply and it made me long for
something I'd never had.

I wasn't really sure why I even went.  Habit, I guess.  Something to
do. It's not like I was in demand or anything.  As far as dances go, I'm
Mr. Sidelines.

I came to the dance alone, like I always did.  Occasionally, I'd get my
nerve up and ask some girl to dance with me -- usually some shy but
acceptable bookworm -- not exactly unpopular -- but not one of the stars of
the school either.  I danced with them because I had to keep up
appearances.  It's the way the world works.

I'm only 13, but I know for a fact I'm gay.  What can I say?  When you
know, you know.  I dance with girls so people won't laugh at me.  Middle
school is intense.  You might as well be under a microscope.  If you don't
do enough of the right things at the right times, you're branded abnormal
forever.  So you put in your time and hope the illusion is enough to keep
everybody happy.

So, there I was on the bleachers, staring at the guys, as usual.  It's hard
to concentrate on anything female when you've already seen half the guys in
your grade naked in the locker room.  Soft dicks just like mine, but not
quite like mine. Water trailing gently down the arch of their backs, wet
and shiny waterfalls down their spines, into the valley of their cracks.

Laughing, towel-snapping, grab-assing, goofy, beautiful boys. Grinning,
swearing at each other, calling each other names and being so
cool. Wet-headed, towel-laughing, beautiful free. And me with a yearning in
my heart, a tingling right down to the bottom of my dick and my soul, in
love with all of them. But always on the sidelines of that perfect, boy
universe. Unnoticed, shy and silently wanting. That's what it means to be
13, and gay, in middle school locker room.

But back to the dance: one guy in particular kept catching my
attention...Jared. He lived on my street, so I knew his form well. I'd
watch him in his yard, mowing lawn. Shooting baskets. Way too shy to
approach him. Way to scared to talk. I'd been watching him all night,
trying not to be obvious...and I was pretty sure he'd looked over a few
times at me, too.

He was beautiful.

He had soft brown hair...the bluest eyes I've ever seen...a face and a body
I would have killed for.  He was dancing with Emmy B., a JV cheerleader --
an incredible score for him, since he just moved to town five weeks
ago. Usually, you have to be established for years before you're allowed
the honor of having Emmy B. press her beginner-tits up against your chest
at a school dance. Take a number, guys.

I'd been staring at Jared for more than a month now at home, from my
window, in classes -- dreaming -- wishing.  Knowing it was impossible.
Angels like him do not spend their time with nothings like me.  Because of
his looks, Jared was instantly popular with the whole school.  Even some of
the eighth grade girls had been dancing with him tonight.  I wondered what
he looked like in the shower.  We didn't have the same gym class.

I wondered if his dick was big. Did it have a soft, pink, mushroom head?
Did his shaft have a light brown ring around the middle like mine? Did it
get hard when he kissed girls? Would it get hard if he ever kissed me? What
would his kisses taste like? Bubble gum? Root beer? Like the watermelon
Jolly Rancher I imagined the most? Would he lick my tongue? Nibble my lower
lip? Would I get hard when he kissed me and would I press my dick into his?
Yeah. I knew I'd get hard if he kissed me. And he would too. Two boys
panting, whispering, giggling. Whimpering sweetly, hungry and soft, falling
in love.

I shook my head and erased the blackboard of fantasy. The music changed,
the slow dance ended, and couples broke up – going their separate ways,
talking with friends...scurrying off to their various corners, talking
about the same useless crap they always talked about...couples, rumors, the
kid-silly data stream...who grabbed who's ass during the song that just
played, and who sprung boners during the clench.  Giggles, whispers, silly
raised-eyebrows. Same as always. Bravado. Immaturity.

But something happened that immediately broke me out of my thoughts and
pulled me back to reality. I was shocked to see that Jared was walking
straight for me. Coming over. Purposefully. Directly. I looked around
quicky to see if I was wrong. Maybe there was somebody else nearby. Maybe
he really wasn't coming for...

Nope. Nobody else around. It was me.

I sat up straighter.  Tried to look natural.  It's like he read my mind,
knew I was looking at him, and now he was coming over. Probably wanted to
tell me to knock it off. Stop perving. Stop being so gay. I wanted to hide
under the bleachers.  Disappear. Escape.  Anything.

But it was nothing like that. He was nothing but smiles.

"You're Luke, right?"  He smiled at me and held out his hand.

Look at his hand. I gasped inside. So perfect. Tan and beautiful. Long,
lean fingers. Not baby fat fingers. Not the thick fingers of man. The long,
lean, perfect fingers of a boy.

I could imagine those fingers wrapped around his cock at night, squeezing
it gently as he made himself moan. Wrapped around my cock. I could see it
in a flash. Long fingers. Slender, narrow sex fingers. Did he ever put one
inside himself like I did at night? Did he ever moan and stretch and push
one inside the hot tunnel of his hole, as far as it would go like I did? I
could see those fingers right in front of me. Imagine one in me. Opening up
for him. Blooming for him, aching to have it in me as we kissed.

"Hello?" he laughed. "Anybody there?"

I snapped out of it.

"Sorry," I said, extending my hand, nothing compared to his. Plain,
nondescript boy hand. Like holding a candle to the sun.

"I'm Jared," he said.

"Yeah," I stuttered nervously. "I know. We're...uh...we're neighbors."

He shook my hand. His hand was warm. Not sweaty. Soft. He gripped my hand
and held it for a moment, not letting go. For just a few extra seconds,
held my hand. I was already getting hard.

"You're...Luke?" he repeated, prompting me for an answer. Eyes
sparkling. Grinning at me. Undoubtedly wondering by this point if my
parents' combined DNA had granted me the power of speech.

"Um, yeah," I stammered nervously. "Lucas, actually."

(Shit, shit. "Lucas actually????" What the fuck was that?)

"But, yeah. I mean, no," I said, flustered. "Luke is
fine. Lucas. Luke. Whatever you want."

(Oh God. Kill me now. Could I sound any stupider?)

"Hi Lucas-Actually," he grinned, completely at ease, looking right into my
eyes. "It's really good to meet you."

"Yeah," I managed meekly. "Good to meet you too. -- Hi."

"I've been meaning to come over to your house to say hi. I see you watching
me from your window when I'm out shooting baskets."

(Oh God. He saw me).

"I...no..." Oh, fuck I was lost. "I'm sorry, I..."

He was loving this. I could tell by his smile, he was absolutely enjoying
making me squirm this way.

And I was squriming. All the way from my flushed neck to the steady zing in
the back of my balls. Yeah. He was making me squirm in lots of places right
now.

"You've been watching me all night," he smiled.  "I must be a good dancer,
huh?"

I felt my face flush.

"No," I lied quickly.  "I was just watching Emmy B."

He rolled his eyes and grinned again, as if to say, "sure you were."

"Everybody watches Emmy B." I added quickly, hoping the ruse would
stick. "She's pretty. You're lucky."

He sat down next to me on the bleachers.

"Too bad," he said softly, so no one would hear.  "I thought you were
watching me."

Time stopped.  I didn't know if he was kidding, or not. I didn't know what
to say.

"It's okay," he said gently. "I'm not mad. I was watching you, too."

My heart was beating so hard in my chest. I don't think I was breathing. My
mouth was open, but no air was getting in. I felt dizzy. Blushing,
heartbeat-dizzy.

"I'm going home," he smiled.  "Wanna walk with me?"

I looked up.

"It's only eight," I said. "The dance isn't over."

"Okay, well...whatever," he smiled, standing up.

"Wait! No! Yes!" I shouted, and he laughed again.

"Yeah," I said, finally finding speech again. "Okay. Yeah. I want to walk
home with you. Sorry. Yeah, I do."

Jared lived on the same street as me, about four blocks from our
school. I'd seen the moving van unload their family's stuff the first
weekend they were in town. I'd watched him ever since and (God) now I knew
he'd seen me. So, it wasn't weird that he was asking me to walk home. He
knew we were neighbors. He'd just never approached me until now. Never said
a word.

"Come on," he said, offering his hand again to help me up. I took it. He
lifted. He was strong. "This dance is boring. Let's go home."

"Yeah," I said again. "Sure. Okay."

Fuck. I could not put two words together in his presence. I was confused. I
had no idea why he'd picked tonight to come over and talk to me. We'd never
even said hello in the hallway before. There are rules in middle
school. Social rules, rating scales. Hierarchy. My level just didn't
approach his level. It wasn't done.

But this.

This was strange and scary and already important.

"I'm not mad," he'd told me, just moments before. "I was watching you too."

Like I mattered.

But how could that be, when he was him and I was me?

"I was watching you too."

Maybe I was completely misreading that. But it still felt scary
wonderful. What if he meant...?

No, of course he didn't. Couldn't possibly.

But it didn't matter. At least I'd get to walk with him. Talk with him.
More images for my jack-off sessions in bed at night. I had a lot of those
sessions the summer I turned 13. I held world records. You could find me in
the Guinness Book, with just a little bit of my own glossy cum drying on
the page.

He stood up and nodded at me so I'd follow him.  We walked across the gym,
through the lobby and out the doors.  The night was cool and laced with
stars.  Small-town crickets chirped on the grassy hills behind Lake Street.

"How come you never come over and talk to me when I'm outside?" he
asked. "You shy?"

I kicked a stick out of my way as we started down the sidewalk.

"I'm not in your crowd," I mumbled softly.  "Gotta stay in my place,
right?"

He shook his head and smiled at me gently.

"You are so strange, Lucas-Actually."

I looked up and smiled.

"Luke," I said, feeling a little more confident. "Just Luke."

His eyes sparkled.

I continued.

"Lukey, maybe?" I asked hesitantly.

My heart actually fluttered.  He laughed. I blushed.

"Okay," he said, "Lukey. Yeah. I like that."

I put my hand over my eyes, embarrassed. He reached up, pulled it
down. Smiled at me.

"You're weird," he grinned.

I shrugged. I was.

"All right then, Lukey," he asked with a grin, "what makes you think you
know what `my crowd' is? I mean, what does that even mean?"

I shrugged again.

"Emmy B.'s a pretty good clue."

He laughed.  "Emmy B.?"

I looked up, surprised.

"Nah," he said. "Too much ego..."

He paused for effect...

"...and way too many girl parts."

Now I really was speechless. My neck felt hot. The world felt slow and
sparkly.

"Emmy B.?" he said again, kicked a stone and luaghed, like it was the
funniest thing he ever heard. "Wow, you still don't quite know why I wanted
to walk home with you, do you?"

"I...I..." I did, but I didn't. I stammered. Didn't know how to say it. But
Jared wasn't afraid:

"Luke," he said, without the least bit of hesitation.  "I'm into guys."

"Guh—guys?" I repeated moronically. Because certainly I was imagining
this. Certainly I was going to wake up in my bed in five seconds, hard as a
rock with another wet dream pumped out and sticky on my stomach.

"Guys," he repeated, smiling gently.  "You know. Gay. Homo. Queer. I'm sure
you've heard of us. We're in all the movies now."

He grinned at me. I gulped, not knowing what to say.

"I thought you were, too," he added casually. "I've been watching you for a
month now. You keep looking at me in class. I figured you were interested."

My silence betrayed me. He looked at me. Smiled again.

"Yeah," he said simply. "I kinda knew you were. Kinda hoped it anyway."

I was silent. He reached down. Took my hand. Held it.

Held my hand as we walked.

"I like you," he said. "Don't be scared, okay? Let's just...I don't
know. Let's just walk."

"Okay," I nodded, looking up into his beautiful eyes. "And I'm not
scared. Just overwhelmed. I didn't think you know who I was."

He smiled.

"I knew who you were."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"And I like you too."

He squeezed my hand tighter. We got closer to our block.

"Hey," he said softy. "Wanna come over and watch some TV with me?  Nobody's
home."

A million things raced through my mind at once.  I was supposed to be home
by ten.  It was already after eight.  Maybe I could call my mom.  Maybe I
could say I was going out after the dance.  Maybe....

"Hello?" he laughed.  "You still there?"

I snapped back to the present.

"Sorry," I said meekly.  "I just..."

My words trailed off.  Our footsteps padded along the sidewalk.

"I mean, not really watch TV," he stated simply. "I mean, you know,
just..."

He couldn't say it either. "Do stuff," he meant.

That's what we both were trying to imagine right now. "Do stuff."

And I had a pretty good imagination.

I wanted to. A lot. He was so beautiful. So nice. So full of whatever I
thought could never be mine.

"Yeah," I answered quietly, knowing I'd be in trouble for coming home late
but not even caring.  "I think I want to come to your house. And, um, not
watch TV."

He nodded knowingly.

"Please don't tell anyone," I added quickly.

He laughed out loud.  A beautiful sound.  Happy and full.  Honest.

"Trust me," he said.  "I do NOT talk about it."

# # # # # # # # # #

We got to his house about ten minutes later.  We walked through the door
and he switched on some lights.  The living room was unremarkable. Nothing
bad, nothing good.  Just an average home in an average town.  Like mine.

"Go on up to my room," he said.  "First door.  I'll get us something to
drink."

He nodded toward the stairs and I started walking up.  I felt numb, like I
was in a trance. Whatever was in store for me, I was more than eager.
Nervous somebody might find out...but very, very ready.  Boys like me dream
about boys like him. It was real and it wasn't real. I wanted him more than
anything. Wanted this. Needed this. Whatever the "this" might be. I didn't
know. But I knew I wanted it.

I opened his door and turned on the light.  I sat on the edge of the bed
and looked around.  The room was pretty much the same as everyone else's
I'd ever seen.  A few posters. A bookshelf. An iPod in a docking station on
his desk. A laptop open and dark. Clothes on the floor. Twisted boxer
briefs. Clean and white. I wanted to pick them up. Wanted to touch them to
my face. Wanted to, I don't know. But I didn't. I blushed again, alone in
his room, looking at his casually-discarded undies. Feeling
strange. Feeling sexy. I cupped my hand in front of my own mouth. Breathed
out. Smelled my own breath. It was okay. It was...

He entered the room with with two cans of Sprite. Closed the door behind
him.

"Cheers," he smiled, handing one to me.

"Cheers," I repeated, drinking.

We sat on his bed for a few minutes, talking and getting to know each
other.

He told me he'd always known he was gay.  "Since birth," he grinned...and I
wondered how that was possible.

I told him, nervously, that I never really knew until middle school, when
watching guys in the shower at gym became my secret, guilty hobby.

He smiled at me and let me talk...spilling my soul in ways I never thought
I'd be able to tell anyone.  He was so beautiful.  So perfect.  So
attentive and sweet.

I looked at the clock and sighed.

"I have to go home in an hour," I said.

He paused for a second.

"Dance with me," he said.

I stared into his eyes.  I thought he was joking, but he was dead serious
and sincere.

Without waiting for an answer, he turned on his iPod, fingered through the
menu and put on something slow. He stood in the center of the room, waiting
for me. Lit by a lamp and the light of the moon, he was
beautiful. Impossibly, boyhood-beautiful.

I stood up, unsteadily as sweet, slow music, filled the room. Sinead
O'Connor. An old song. Nothing Compares 2 U.

He turned off the light.  The moon through the window cast a gentle blue
shadow throughout the bedroom.

I walked over to him and he took me in his arms.

"Hi, Lukey," he said softly.  "I'm glad you came over tonight."

We danced without saying anything.  I felt so safe and natural, standing
there, dancing with him.  His arms were wrapped around me, and I wrapped
mine around him.  I could feel him breathing on my neck as we stood there
pressed against each other.  His heart was beating hard in his chest,
pressed against mine.  His hands reached up and stroked my hair.  I didn't
want it to end...it was so nice...so sweet.  I wanted it to last
forever...just standing there, swaying softly, filled with music and warmth
and everything I'd never had before. Closeness. Completeness. Love.

He led me to the bed and we laid down next to each other, slowly.  I wasn't
scared at all.  He held my face in his hands and kissed me softly. It was
the most tender, beautiful, natural feeling in the world.  We lay there
side by side, melting in to each other, kissing sweetly.

Our hands moved to the music...touching, caressing each other, working
their way slowly across warm, soft skin.

It's been seven hours and fifteen days...  Since you took your love away
from me...

His hand reached my groin first.  I gasped quietly when he first touched
me...his hand sending a shiver -- an electric current -- through my whole
spine.  I kissed him harder, wanting more.

We fumbled with our pants, urgent, helping each other undress.  And then we
lay there, naked from the waist down, kissing, touching...rubbing eachother
and moaning softly.

He stroked my dick and I stroked his.  I was amazed at how naturally
everything was coming to me.  We needed no instruction and no words.  We
just laid there in heaven, exploring each other, feeling each others'
hardness, enjoying every sweet, soft sensation of this first, incredible
meeting.

He slowly, tenderly, kissing my body all the way down, shifted his body
into yin and yang, up and down, sweet 69.  I knew what was coming, and I
was eager.

His warm mouth wrapped around the head of my penis.  His soft hands
caressed my back, squeezing and touching.  His fingertips were like points
of fire on my warm skin.

I took him into my mouth, too.  He moaned.  Pressed in.

We laid there, slowly sliding back and forth, pushing forward, feeling the
warm, wet heat of our mouths.

His pubic hair was light and clean.  I smelled soap and a light, musky,
sweaty scent.  Just enough to make me want more. I licked around the base
of his dick, enjoying the flavor, breathing in the sweet, boyish aroma
--pressing my nose up against his small patch of hair -- inhaling deeply,
hungry for the taste of his hardness.  I wanted to please him. He played
with my balls. Lightly fingered the area underneath. Not in my ass, but
almost, so close...

Our hips bucked gently as we continued to suck each other.  Almost in time
to the music, we pushed ourselves in and out...our tempo building...

"Don't cum," he whispered, pulling off me.

"No," I whimpered. "Please don't stop."

I was so close. So close to cumming in his mouth. So close to tasting
his...no...don't stop...

He came back up to me. Took my face in his hands. Kissed me. Such sweet,
salty kisses. They tasted like dick. They taste like me.

I moaned softly as he kissed me with his tongue. His hand traced
down. Touched my nipples. My belly. My straining dick. And lower. My
balls. My ass. Oh God, my rosebud. My hole. His finger was wet with
spit. He was touching my hole. Pushing into me. Kissing me. Me moaning. His
gentle but insistent finger. Finger with purpose. With a target. Pushing
into me with his sweet long, finger. Making me open up for him. Blooming
me. Readying me.

"I want to love you, Lukey," he whispered between kisses.

Tears came out of my eyes. Happy tears he kissed and licked away.

"Let me put my love inside you," he whispered.

I looked in his eyes.

"Please," I whispered. Nothing else. Just, "please."

He pushed his finger inside me, deeper. I gasped. Electric.

He licked my neck. Sucked my skin. Whispered in my ear:

"I'm going to put my love in you, Lukey," he whispered, fingering me
deeper. "Right here. Right in here. Do you want that?"

"Ohhhh," I whimpered. "Ohhhhh..."

"Tell me you want that," he whispered hotly.

"Yes," I moaned.

"You want that with my cock."

"Nnngh," I whimpered. "I want that with your cock."

He rolled me over on my side. Spooned me. I felt something cold for a
second. Slippery. Lube. Where did he...

But there was no time to wonder.

He entered me from behind in a piercing, swift movement, so full and so
gentle I gasped and saw stars.

"Ungggh," I grunted as his cock filled me up. So good. So big. So long...so
hot and hard and eager to take me.

"Oh, Lukey," he whispered. "You feel so good. So tight. This is my love,
Lukey. This is how I put my love in you."

"Nnnnn..." I cried. Really cried, with tears of contentment flowing freely
down my face. Tickly and wet on my cheeks. I wiped them
away. Crying. Needing this. He hugged me and pushed himself in and out, so
gently, so completely. My whole world went from black and white to color in
that moment. Nothing would ever be the same after this. Nothing.

It's been so lonely without you here...  Like a bird without a song...
Nothing can stop these lonely tears from falling...  Tell me baby where did
I go wrong...  Nothing compares...  Nothing compares 2 U...

Across the room, the music played as we made love. As he danced inside me,
filling my entire being with his sweet, long, hard, aching music. It
hurt. It felt good. It felt empty. It felt full. It felt
everything. Everything. Sweet moonlight music. Soft dance. Sweet fuck. My
mind was exploding with color. This was changing my forever. And I cried
because it felt so good.

He quickened. His breath became raspy. I felt him push forward with an
urgent thrust, shoving his hard dick deep into my open hole. I winced, but
he didn't stop.  His body shook, his hips tensed, he grasped me
roughly. His sperm erupted inside me in hot, forceful pumps of his hip.

"Nngggh," he grunted. "My love, Lukey. Putting my...nnnngghh..putting
my...love in you...fucking you...cumming in you...nnnnghhh..."

My ass clenched around him, grasping him. Milking him. Needing every sweet
drop.

"Do it," I gasped. "Hard. Do it. Please! Unngh!"

The force...the action...the urgency of his thrust was so erotic to me --
so much of a turn-on -- there was nothing I could do but just lay there and
let him fill me up. So full. So hard when he came in me.

He was breathing so hard.

"My love in you," he repeated softly, panting, gulping for air. "Had
to...put my...love in you. So tight. So good."

He was silent. Held me. Kissed my neck. I was sweaty. I could smell
us. Sexy. Sweet sex smell. I'd never smelled this before. Open smell, good
smell. I wanted to cry again. We smelled good. I melted back. Let him hold
me.

My dick was hard. So hard. Needed to cum.

"Please," I begged. "Please, I need it too."

He pulled out. Emptiness. Ache.

Rolled me on my stomach. Straddled my legs.

Went down on my cock.

Oh fuck. My cock in his mouth.

So hot around me cock.

My cock in his mouth.

And his finger, still reaching. Still --- oh, fuck – back in my
ass. Filled up again.

Sucking me. Finger-fucking my sore, cum-filled ass. Feeling so
good. Feeling so full...

Fucking his face. Feeling his finger. Putting the love in...putting the
love...

I shoved forward with passion -- heard him gag -- and I moaned out loud,
blasting his throat with everything I had.

"Unnghhh," I cried out. "Cumming, cumming..."

My whole body was on fire, tingling.  I stopped moving, almost gasping at
the sensitivity -- the flushing shiver -- the involuntary jerk of my dick
as my fluid filled his mouth.  I heard him gulping and moaning, eager to
swallow it all.  Swallowing me. Pulling my ass to his face to swallow me
deeper. His nose buried in my pubic hair. Inhaling me. Moaning. Swallowing
me. His moans were a vibration that ran up and down my dick. Drove me
crazy. Buzzed in my balls.

It was beautiful. It was perfect. It was something I'd needed to let out
for so long. Let out in a boy. Let out in him.

After I'd stopped shooting, I felt him licking my head, wanting more,
cleaning every last drop from where it came.

"Lukey" he whispered.  "I wanted you so much."

Turning quickly, he came back up to lay side by side with me.  He kissed me
again and held me in his arms.

I could taste the saltiness of my own cum on his lips.  His tongue licked
me gently, sending me into a shiver that started at my lips and moved
warmly across my whole body.

Sinead, endlessly repeating, sang to us again:

All the flowers that you planted, mama...  In the backyard...

"Jared," I moaned, holding him.  "Don't ever let me go."

He held me there, as the music continued to play. Crickets chirped from a
distant window.

In all my life, I'd never know a sweeter dance.  I didn't want to think of
future, or school, or when we'd be together again. I just wanted this
moment. This one right here. The moment I'd remember the rest of my life,
Jared...when you and I danced. When youth still made everything in the
world possible. That beautiful moment in time, Jared, when nothing compared
to you.

I surrendered myself to the music and his touch, knowing that no matter
where my world went from here...tonight, I had danced. That's all that
mattered.

I finally danced.

And the music, like my childhood itself, was deep, safe, warm and right.

The dance was unforgettable.

# # # # # # # # # #

Love,
Zachyboy
z.blake@mail.com