When You Don't Know
By Tony Manson
Copyright 2003 Tony Manson
Smashwords Edition
Cover Design and Photography by
Christopher James Cushman
Smashwords Edition, License Notes This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
DEDICATION
First and foremost I give praise to God for giving me the strength to keep on fulfilling my dreams everyday and dreaming bigger as I go. It’s my faith that lets me know every time I say I can, I do. Thank you Lord.
My family and friends, thank you for understanding and loving me…”that’s just Tony”….lol.
And to Shurod Thank you being that person that I need in my life. The last four years have shown me that we have many more together. Thank you for loving all of me. My heart goes to you <wink>.
So many people have asked the question, “Are you born gay?” And you don’t know how many times that play over and over in my head. Of course, I’ve answered the question quite often. The only thing is that answer has not always been the same. There have been different factors that have influenced my answers. Time, age, experience, have all come into play. But, after all the reasoning, logic and rationale I contemplate, all bring me back to the same answer. The one I have always knew, felt, and believed in.
PART I
CHAPTER 1
Even as a little boy, I can remember being fascinated by men, their builds, hands, legs, but most of all, their arms. The movement of a man’s arms is one of the most sensuous things, on my list of many that attracts me to men. Just looking at a man’s arm I see strength as it moves. Watching the muscles appear whenever it moves lets me know that strength and security is there. I know I would be safe with them wrapped around me. Maybe it’s that daddy kind of thing. I come from a large family. On my father’s side there are a total of fourteen children, including himself. Ten are males and four are females. So as you can see, I have a large number of males to compare to. The ages range from sixty-eight to twenty-six. For such a comparison, a guy couldn’t ask for a better scale. Besides, any guy under eighteen doesn’t quite qualify because he doesn’t have enough under his belt to play with. Not counting the amount he plays with himself. Only combat with another is what rakes in the points.
I remember in the summertime hanging with one of my older uncles, riding around with him while he ran his errands. My uncle Brock was around twenty-five years old, a deep chocolate brown like Snickers, with a solid build. He was rather short but was packed like dynamite in more ways than one. Brock used to ride around on hot summer days wearing tank tops that fit his build. Back in the day, clothes fit. Uncle Brock was like a super hero kind of guy. He had big muscles that showed every time he moved. I thought that nothing could hurt him and that he could beat up anybody. He was my Superman...minus the red cape. I thought that he was stronger than any of my other uncles. His overall size, shape, and appearance made him Superman in my eyes, yet the only thing is that he wore T-shirts and jeans.
He had a short haircut that seemed to wave up after he brushed it thirty times a day. Brock had brown eyes and pearl-white teeth. His smile was like sunshine, it lit up everything. You couldn’t help but to love him, he could win you over just by flashing it. I think being in the Marines was a result of him being so perfect, at least to me. Brock fell towards the older group of uncles I had, he was child number five.
While hanging out with uncle Brock, when we would stop by his friends, or boy’s house, I would always compare them to my uncle in my head. Today when I think back on it, I guess you would say I was checking them out. ‘Cause I sure do remember that Brock’s boy Will had a big booty. Even Uncle Brock would tease him about it. Every time I saw him, I would sneak a peek at it. Will was also a dark-chocolate”Snickers” like Brock. He could have been a super hero type too. Will had muscles, but not as big as my Uncle Brock. I looked up to him to for having strength. Now, this other boy, Aaron, was totally different looking from the crew. He was the smart one. Aaron wasn’t light-skinned and he wasn’t dark either. Uncle Brock used to talk about his ‘red ass’ all the time. He used to always make comments about him being hairy, too. Aaron did kind of remind me of a monkey man, but he was cute. Only thing was that he didn’t have any hair on his head. It didn’t make sense to me either as a child, but as I grew up, I later understood the sexiness to it. I loved being around my uncle’s best friends, I felt as if I was a part of the gang.
Uncle Brock had lots of nieces and nephews. Actually, some of the grand kids and his brothers and sisters were the same age or a year or two apart. Uncle Brock took a liking to me. I always hung out with him. He would always take me with him and leave the others at home, except when he babysat my brother and sisters. He actually babysat us often. Brock didn’t have any kids of his own yet, so I actually became the son he would one day have. Just about anywhere I could go with Uncle Brock, I was there. I could be his co-pilot and never tell a word about where we had been. Even when he would do errands for Grandma and Brock would smoke a joint on our journey, he knew his secret would stay between us.
My father, Nigel Nixon, was Brock’s eldest brother. My father and mother, Lena, got married in their early twenties. My father was actually three years older than my mother. Dad worked as an employee for the City of Detroit. Mama eventually received her degree in Social Work and got in with the City also. While we were kids, mama was at home most of the time. She and my father believed that the focus of raising children should be when they’re in the early years, when they are most impressionable. I was on the end of one brother and two sisters. I was the baby, me, Peyton. Vaughn was the eldest. He was five years older than I. Alexandria was the oldest girl and a year younger than Vaughn. It seemed like we were grouped together because of our ages. Vaughn and Alexandria were always put together, while my sister, Kennedy, and I were always teamed against the other two. Kennedy was two years older than I. The amazing thing was that Alexandria and I looked alike, while Vaughn and Kennedy resembled each other. We all had that caramel color skin with light shades of brown colored eyes. Kennedy’s eyes were the lightest...sort of grayish-hazel.
I stood out from my brother. We were basically the same complexion, but my eyes were the next lightest, compared to Kennedy, a real soft hazel. The kind that looks like contacts, but my hair and eyebrows were dark black. My other siblings had sandy-brown hair. None was as dark as mine. As Alex got older, she colored her hair a dark-smokey brown, almost black in certain light. She didn’t like that ‘doodoo’ brown she called her hair color.
I don’t know if it was because I was the baby but, everyone always took to me. I was a little kid who had a mind of his own. I followed my parents’ rules but knew that there was more on the other side of life. Opportunity awaited, whenever it was my time.
My uncle Brock was the only man around the day I was born. My father and his brothers had gone to help his other brother, Ellington, move. So a couple of my aunts came by to sit with my mother while my father was gone. It was just an excuse for all those ladies to get together and eat and gossip. I should say gossip and eat since they were still talking long after the food was gone. Brock was staying with my parents while he was getting himself together. He had just returned from the Marines and had a little piece of a job at a restaurant. Brock was working while his brothers were moving that day.
After only being home for about an hour, talking to my aunts, Brock went into the bathroom to do the three S’s shit shave, and shower. After only getting to do the first S, Lena began saying her water broke, she was bamming on the bathroom door. All of my aunts there were all beginning to lose it, I mean...with all the people in my family...they had been through this scene enough to know the procedure; yet Brock took control. Along with two of my aunts, he took my mother to the hospital. My remaining aunts stayed to look after the kids and to alert my father to meet them at the hospital. My father had just made it there two minutes before my birth, but my uncle Brock was there from A to Z.
My parents gave Brock the opportunity to name me. He felt honored. Brock liked Peyton...like from the television series, “Peyton Place.” Peyton Morgan Nixon, seven pounds five ounces, seven-twenty in the evening, April 16, that news rang throughout my family within a matter of minutes. You know, all it takes is for one Nixon to know about it, and then the whole neighborhood will know.
April 16, 1963 changed Brock’s life. Being around Peyton made uncle Brock realize how much he wanted to have a family one day. The funny thing is that Brock was more like a big brother than an uncle. Uncle Brock was the one who taught or condemned all of Peyton’s curiosity. As I grew older, I could always go to Uncle Brock’s house and basically get whatever I wanted. He gave me my first beer, liquor, and joint. Uncle Brock knew that I would be the one to question things, so he felt he should at least give me first hand, correct information. He didn’t want me to find out in the streets, the wrong way.
One weekend while staying with Uncle Brock, I was about eight or ten, Uncle Brock and I were lying on the bed watching television or should I say, I was watching television and Uncle Brock had dozed off. He had been drinking beer but he wasn’t sloppy drunk. Somewhere along the line, Uncle Brock began dreaming. He had on some shorts and a T-shirt. Ralph what Uncle Brock called his penis, began to become erect. I could tell Uncle Brock was dreaming because he wasn’t even aware of me being in the bed with him. Uncle Brock never hurt me or tried to seduce or molest me. But I was becoming more interested in that bulge in his pants than what was on the television. Uncle Brock moved his leg, and I could see his ralph was at full attention. I got curious just seeing it fully strong inside his shorts. It was then that I realized that he didn’t have on underwear. Ralph was peeking through the bottom of his shorts. I couldn’t believe that a ralph could be that big. After all, I was accustomed to seeing the little thing that my brother and I had.
The dream must have gotten good because ralph was leaking, or at least, that is what I thought it was doing. Initially, I thought he was going to pee in the bed, but then I said to myself. “Pee don’t look like that!” I didn’t know if I should awake him or if he was alright. The longer I gazed my natural response was to touch it. I was really too afraid to try such a thing, yet part of me wanted to do it. I moved around on the bed to see what response I would get from Uncle Brock, but he didn’t react to me. His dream had to be going good because he was beginning to smirk and rub his feet together. The more I stared at Uncle Brock’s ralph, the more I wanted to touch it. I almost leaped off the bed when it started jumping out of the blue. The clear stuff coming out was now falling onto his leg.
I gained the nerve to try and touch it; I extended my hand out to touch it. My eyes never left Uncle Brock’s face, because if he opened his eyes I wanted to know the exact moment. As my left hand reached closer onto my target, I felt a warm glow. Just as I was about to go in for the score, Uncle Brock ran his hand across his ralph and kind of turned a little to his right, causing his legs to entwine, shifting his weight. I sat frozen not wanting to get caught, motionless for a minute, I then eased back down into a laying position on the bed and continued to look at the television. Just think about Uncle Brock’s ralph, what made it jump like that? Why did it look like snot coming from it? All I know is that whatever was on the television could not compare to what I just saw. Would mine ever get to be that big one day?
CHAPTER 2
As I grew into adolescence my thoughts on men remained but they were toned down when I began to notice how girls were looking at me. I have always liked girls and had a little crush on one all through grade school. I could always pick the “cutest girl” in my class to be my girlfriend. I mean after all, I was smart and cute...a perfect combination...for a third grader.
Around the age of thirteen or fourteen puberty took control. My voice was playing tricks even when I tried hard to be in control. And, that peach fuzz above my upper lip was beginning to give my perfectly white teeth a nice manly smile. The young girls were eating it up, too. I might add that a couple of Vaughn’s female friends gave me that...”If you were a couple of years older, I would...” You know that made me feel good about myself. At least I wasn’t a little brother who was hit up and made fun of all the time.
I can even remember getting caught up in situations in which another brother and I would be at a young sista’s house...looking at each other wanting to know what was up. I was threatened by the class bully because I was going with the “cutest girl” in our Social Studies class. I was also a teacher’s pet. I had enough charm, let me rephrase that, I had such a smart ass mouth that replied in a creative way that, a lot of times you couldn’t help but to play along with me. I also knew that there were certain authority figures that were not to be played with or even to risk trying it with. The teachers who were “down-to-earth,” a little humor was always cool.
One particular counselor I had in Middle School, Mr. Sheridan Spenser, now he was “my boy.” I could basically say and do anything around him when we were alone. Mr. Spenser never tried to touch me or come onto me wrong. As I became an adult I then knew why Mr. Spenser used to look at me funny. Mr. Spenser treated me differently than a lot of his other students. Sometimes, I could spend afternoons in his office with him, doing paperwork or running errands for him around the school. A lot of times we would just sit and talk about me growing up, my future or about my popularity amongst my peers. Mr. Spenser would always talk to me and look me straight in my eyes throughout our conversation. He was about five-foot eleven-inches with a slender build. Mr. Spenser or “Spens,” as I would sometimes call him, was light-complexioned, but a kind of reddish light instead of yellowish. He wore a “traditional teachers’ haircut” even, about two inches all the way around his head. Not an Afro but a little cropped cut. It did look good on him and didn’t make him look old either. He had a thick mustache that covered his mouth. I could swear his little beady-brown eyes always had a glitter to them whenever I looked into his eyes. Spens was single. I guess I took a liking to him that it never occurred to me why he wasn’t attached. Sheridan Spenser was a fancy to all the single, female teachers in the school. It was obvious that Ms. Loving, the Home Economics teacher, and Ms. Sanchez, the Spanish teacher, were always competing for his attention. He constantly paid them both none.
Mr. Spenser was quite helpful with me in making decisions about my career and my future. When my parents would ask me about my plans for my future, I had an answer for them, and I wasn’t bullshitting either. I was serious about my future. After all, he was a Guidance Counselor. I was able to thank him years later, personally.
Around the summer of my second year in college, I came home to work during the summer to save money to buy a car. I needed something to get around campus in. I knew my parents or some member of my family would help me if I was trying to help myself. As long as I was working towards a goal, I would get some help if needed. Everyone in my family knew about my mission. I was working day and night and saving all my money faithfully. My friends were able to convince me to go out with them one weekend, because we all were only home together for the Summer Break. Fall was right around the corner and I had been putting them off every time they would ask. We went to a club called, “The Lady.” The Lady had a reputation when we were in high school of being the place to be. We couldn’t go then, we were not old enough, but the joint was still pumping stronger than ever two years later. Friday night, all the cool people would be there, besides, one of my boys’ brother was a bouncer there which meant we were guaranteed to get in with him at the door.
After being in the club for about two hours, dancing and drinking with friends, I wandered up to the next level to see what was happening up there. The music was different and I wanted to see if that DJ had anything on the one downstairs who was pumping out the jams. Once up there, I went to the bar and ordered a drink. While standing there at the bar, I was observing the room, slowly scanning the crowd. To my left, in a corner talking with two other brothers was Mr. Spenser.
When I saw him, I kinda got warm. I smiled to myself and commented on how good he was looking. He was basically the same except his hair was shorter and he had filled out a little. Old Spens was in there. I stood there and watched him for awhile, and then one of the gentlemen talking to him walked away. I waited thinking I would get him alone, but then I thought it wasn’t worth the risk of him walking away and me missing my opportunity, so I walked up to him.
“Excuse me, but is your name Sheridan Spencer?”
He looked at me right in the eyes as usual, and sat his drink down and approached me with a smile and arms opened wide.
“Peyton Nixon, I would know you anywhere! My little partner in crime playing hooky in my office for hours. How are you doing?” As he and I hugged. The thought that raced through my mind was he does feel as good as he looks. He introduced me to his partner, James Hint. He was a short, light-skinned guy, with curly black hair. He wasn’t actually bad looking, but Mr. Spenser had my attention. Mr. Spenser told me to call him Sheridan, because we were both grown, black men. We discussed our lives since we both saw each other. He was now Vice-Principal in a high School. Still single, he had gone back to school and received his Ph.D. I told him I had continued on and was going to Michigan State University, majoring in Pharmacy.
“I’m not surprised to see you doing well, hell you always had it going on for yourself. You always knew what you wanted. Tell me if you’re married already, I’m sure one of those girls at State is doing what her mama told her... ‘Snag you one of those good college boys.’”
I replied. “No, no...I can’t say I’ve crossed that border. I don’t even think about marriage. If I don’t get married, life will still go on.” I said as I cocked my head, looking Sheridan straight in his eyes, the way he always does me.
“Well, it all depends on what you want and what you are looking for” he said.
“So, why aren’t you married, Sheridan, I mean I’m sure you have a lot to offer some woman? You’ve got it going on!” I said as I punched him lightly on the arm.
During the course of our conversation, his other friend returned. His name was Mario Baxter. After introducing us, he started conversating with Sheridan’s other boy, James who was standing close by, looking at the dance floor checking out the action. The two of them said they were going downstairs to listen to the DJ who was playing house music. That left us, Sheridan and me, there alone to finish our conversation. Sheridan began talking; answering the question I had asked him before his friend walked up.
“Yes, I do have a lot to offer...anyone. No, I don’t think marriage is for me. But I do hope to have a meaningful relationship again. I just broke-up with a friend of mine about two months ago.”
“So that’s why you’re out here, trying to peep some prospects, huh?” I said playfully.
“No, I’m just out with my boys because Mario is here from out-of-town; D.C., and he and James wanted to hang out for awhile. I really didn’t have much to do, so I agreed to hang out for a little bit. Besides, something told me it would be a good night for me.” Sheridan tilted his glass towards me and winked.
You know, I didn’t know if it was the liquor or my imagination, but was Mr. Spenser...Sheridan hitting on me? I mean, I know it’s flattering and would be something I had thought about in my younger years.
‘Hold on, Peyton!’ I told myself. ‘Just continue to see this conversation through. You’ll see how to play it.’ I told myself in my head as I turned and ordered another drink. I asked Sheridan if he wanted one. He ordered for himself and insisted on paying for mine as well. After about another half-hour of talking with Sheridan, his friends and mine found us at the bar, still talking. Both sets of friends had come to see if we both were alright and to say where they would be next. Sheridan and I agreed to continue our conversation tomorrow, due to the fact that we were being a little rude to our friends. We both consented to dinner Saturday night at Maddie’s in downtown Detroit. It was a good soul food restaurant that was usually crowded. He said he lived downtown, and just named somewhere he knew that would have food we both would appreciate. It sounded good to me, so we made a date. Eight o’clock we would meet at the restaurant. I knew I could get somebody’s car at my house, so I was good to go. We said our good-byes, exchanged telephone numbers, just in case something came up, and found our own group of friends we came with. Mine could not believe I had been gone so long. They made jokes about me getting some leg upstairs because I was gone so long. I just explained to them that I ran into a friend whom I had not seen in a long time. I didn’t share the thoughts which were racing through my head, that I had a dinner date I couldn’t wait to get to tomorrow. Yeah, I think I’ll even have dessert.
Saturday night finally arrived. I had been thinking about Sheridan all day. ‘What if he doesn’t mess around? What if he does? What if he thinks I’m just a kid he can play with? What if I’m in left field and Sheridan just wants to talk with me? I could be taking this all wrong, but something says I’m not. I got this funny little feeling he’s attracted to me. And, if he was, I’m going to act like I’m experienced at sex, and try to take control, or at least make him think I’m not a little kid he can have his way with (although he could...(smile).’
I figured I would dress casually. He didn’t say anything about going out to any clubs, so I thought some jeans would be okay. I picked out my favorite ones that fit perfectly. They weren’t too old looking, but I could dress them up or down. Besides, they gave you a good view of both my frontal and rear. Even I liked rubbing my hand across my crotch, just the way it let my Ralph lay, and all hoisted up like something was sitting on my lap. I teamed the jeans with a lightweight canary yellow knit vest with stripes around the V-neckline. I put on a pair of my brown loafer. I had a virgin collegiate look going on. I started to change into a jazzier casual look but chose not. I decided to see what this look would get me!
Sheridan arrived at the restaurant first. He had reserved a booth towards the back of the place. As I approached him, he raised up to greet me. Sheridan had on jeans himself with a khaki-colored shirt and brown loafers, with no socks on as did I. I sat down and complimented how nice it was to be in his company again. We sat and indulged in small talk about current events, things going on in the City, people to look out for, and those to get to know. Along the way, we ordered and ate as we talked.
Sheridan didn’t want to linger around the restaurant after we ate because it was becoming quite crowded.
“How about going over to my apartment for drinks? I just live down the street off Jefferson Avenue. Or we could go to Monty’s for drinks? What do you think, Peyton?” Sheridan said.
I said. “We can go over to your place, that’ll be cool. Do you smoke bud Sheridan? Because I do have some weed in my pocket.” Going back to his apartment would be good, then I can smoke some weed and talk big shit to him.
“I don’t smoke a lot; one joint would do it for me. But you’re welcome to smoke as much as you would like, but you know that’s bad for you. Besides, it probably something you got from your buddies on campus, didn’t you, Peyton?”
I just smiled and said. “No, I didn’t.”
Sheridan had a lovely apartment. He was on the seventh floor of his building. One side of his apartment faced the Detroit River, and the other side faced the other businesses on the river. The decor was fine, yet it still remained masculine. The color scheme was black, beige, and a creamy tan color. It was everything I had imagined a man like Sheridan to live in. He offered me a drink and told me I could look around. One of the bedrooms he had turned into an Office, it had all of his various diplomas and awards on the wall. I also noticed that he was a member of Beta Theta Psi, a prominent black fraternity. I wondered did his frat have a lot of undercover homosexuals. Or did he know a lot of them? My mind always found questions to ask myself, even if they were left-field questions.
As Sheridan and I sat in the living room, he turned the air on, and turned the stereo on putting a Luther Vandross tape into the player. Soon, the sweet sound of Luther singing A Better Love flooded the apartment. I got a real warm feeling all over because that was my favorite album and I was playing it at home, in the car, night and day.
“Why do you say you don’t think you’ll ever get married?” Sheridan asked as he sat on the sofa next to me.
“Because I don’t think marriage is for everyone, and I don’t think it’s for me either.” I reached for my glass that was sitting on the glass cocktail table.
“You’ll change your mind as time goes on, and some young lady with the total package comes your way.” Sheridan said it as if I would possibly agree with him.
“Do you mind if I roll me a joint, Sheridan” I asked.
“No, go right ahead. I think I’ll smoke a little with you. You don’t have anything that would make me do crazy shit, do you?
“Depends on what you call crazy shit.” I said. “I think it’ll make you do good shit, ‘cause its good weed. You don’t know, but I only play with good shit. No matter what the situation is, my brother?” I had a smirk on my face and said that statement with a sarcastic flavor, wanting to see how he would fall into it. I continued to roll my joint. I figured I could start controlling this situation to see if it would go my way.
As we steadily talked, drank and smoked the joint, about a half hour later, Sheridan complimented on how good the bud was. He rated it as very good. He also let me in on a secret, that smoking bud makes him horny. I asked if there was anything I could do for him. He slid down on the arm of the sofa on the end which I was sitting, as close to me as he possibly could.
“Can I kiss you?” Sheridan asked without a moment of hesitation. I said, “Yes” and closed my eyes and moved in. Within seconds, Sheridan and I were passionately kissing. He slid down even further, practically in my lap. Before I knew it, hands were going everywhere! His were searching my body as well as, mine searching his. It is amazing how when you and someone are getting intimate, you are able to get in there and feel skin without actually knowing what you are doing. After many minutes of passionate kissing, we broke apart. I asked him if he would like to continue this in the bedroom. Sheridan stood up and reached for my hand. I could see his ralph was fully erect, pointing down his leg. It appeared long and thick. Boy, it looked like Sheridan was going to be all that and more. I stood up and took his hand.
Once in the bedroom, Sheridan started kissing me again. This time he roamed down around my neck and shoulders. Before I knew it, we were on the bed, with him on top of me. Boy! Sheridan sure tasted good.
I could smell his Calvin Klein cologne and it was making me hotter. Sheridan got off the bed and stepped back, just looking at me. He began to remove his shirt, while unbuttoning it; he never took his eyes off me. Next, he unfastened his pants and slid them right off. He had on some dark blue silk boxers, but he quickly removed them along with any other clothing he had on. All I could think about was that long, hard, red bat that was extended out towards me. Without uttering a word, Sheridan came towards me, first removing my shoes. Next he unbuttoned my pants and I rose up so he could slip them off. As I rose forward to remove my vest, he reached to take off my underwear. After taking them off, Sheridan was veering over me. All of a sudden, he went for my ralph. It was as if it was a meal that he’d been waiting for. He swallowed my ralph, whole! Sheridan was so engrossed in sucking my ralph, I just eased back down and began rubbing his arms and back. He was doing such a good job and really turning me on, that I started cupping his head and pumping my ralph in and out of his mouth. He stopped out of the blue, looked at me and said. “When I saw you last night, I knew you tasted like some ol’ sweet chocolate.” We both laughed.
“You sure have got a big piece of meat here boy!” Sheridan said with a happy sound to his voice.
I reached down and grabbed his ralph and held it in my hands. “We both live in the same neighborhood, my brother.”
I flipped him over and started to nibble on his left nipple. Sheridan was moaning and twitching all around. He grabbed the back of my head and continued telling me how good I was eating that nipple. I worked my way down his slightly hairy chest. I went across his stomach with my tongue, down to his ralph. As I swallowed the whole shaft, his biggest thrill came from me licking and tickling the head, and sucking on those big balls of his.
After a long time of foreplay, probing areas of his body with my tongue, Sheridan spoke.
“Please, make love to me. I want you, I can feel you. Make love to me now.” Sheridan reached over and kissed me long and gentle. He then reached over to his night stand and took some lubricant out of the drawer. He began applying it to my ralph. He was getting excited watching my ralph fully extended and glistening as he stroked it, making sure it was all covered with lube. Sheridan then began to apply some lube to his ass hole. I could tell he was sliding his fingers inside himself, just from watching his reaction to rubbing down there. With him on his back, his legs raised up in the air. I got between his legs, aligned my ralph with his ass hole, and went in for the kill. Upon entering him, he cautioned me to go slow. It wasn’t long before I was in and beginning to feel Sheridan thrusting his hips towards me. It seemed that the deeper I went in, the closer I got to the fire brewing inside him. After a couple more stokes, I had hit the center of the fire. We went on and on in this position, with Sheridan begging for more of me. I had his legs extended up in the air, resting on my shoulders. He was having the time of his life, but so was I, for that matter. Sheridan told me he was about to cum, but wanted me to cum with him.
“You just say when, baby, and I’ll shoot my load for you.” I said. A few minutes later, Sheridan started begging me to shoot now. His hips were jiggling mighty fast. Before I knew it, he was shooting all over the both of us!
He yelled.
“Sweet Jesus. Sweet Jesus ooooooh oooooh ahhhh ahhhhh!” The hot cum on my skin excited me more than ever. I exploded inside of Sheridan, letting out a loud yell. As I reached my climax, he squeezed his ass tighter around my ralph. This feeling seemed to make my organism hit a high that I had never had before. We both fell into each others’ arms, breathing heavily.
Sheridan kissed me and said.
“You were everything and more than I imagined. Stay here with me tonight. We could wake up and go another round or two in the morning.” He smiled with a little glitter in his eyes as he rubbed his finger across my cheek. It was then that I recognized that there was actually a glitter in his eyes whenever he looked at me.
I wasn’t fooling myself, I saw it just then. I knew I wasn’t imaging it all this time. I agreed to stay. Sheridan got up and went to the bathroom. He came back with a wet washcloth and began to clean me up. He got back in the bed and we wrapped up in each others’ arms and fell asleep. I knew I couldn’t wait until morning to make love to Sheridan again. This way I could make sure it wasn’t a dream.
CHAPTER 3
The next morning and for the remainder of my Summer Break was spent with Sheridan. It was a beautiful and learning experience. Actually, what made it easy was the game plan. I knew that I was going back to Lansing in the fall. That was a definite! And, Sheridan strongly pushed that issue. He was going to make sure that I continued with my plan. I liked that in him. A quality that every black man should have...perseverance. But with his position as Vice-Principal, I knew that he was rooted with a plan as well. So, instead of trying to become lovers, we were very good friends, close friends with privileges (smile). We discussed this issue in the beginning, so there wouldn’t be any “misunderstandings” along the way. It seemed to make it easier to be in each others’ company, along with the fact that I wanted to be there. I think we both thought about the fact that time was a big factor in our moments spent together.
Sheridan was able to show me the ins and outs of the college game that I was playing, which concerned things such as money for financial aid, loans, grades, and dealing with professors. That was the mental end of it. He was great with my physical as well, which dealt with me learning and enhancing areas in my sensuality and sexuality. For that matter, that goes both ways cause I was doing a job on my boy. He even told me so. That added another feather to his cap with me.
My involvement with Sheridan Spenser wasn’t my first with a man. Although, it was beautiful and exciting, if I might say so myself, it faded away gracefully, slowly, and better than any relationship I had ever had. But then again, it wasn’t really a relationship technically. I wouldn’t have traded it for the world, besides; I knew that I would have a friend, if nothing else.
All through high school, I kept the thoughts about men to myself. I dated a lot of females. I was fucking the shit out of some pussy. It wasn’t a front or anything like that. Actually, it was something I was doing for myself. I do like women. It is just that I’m not totally satisfied with just being with them. Unlike some of my gay brothers, black or white, who have never been with a woman. I have been told by some brother that they never had the notion of being with a woman. You know they knew from early in the game what turned them on. Some have said that they couldn’t function properly with them. In translation, that means that they couldn’t get a hard-on when they were with females. I wasn’t in the bisexual stage either. I might’ve been having thoughts about guys, but I wasn’t having sex with them either. The girls I was with was no more than a physical thing. I mean, when I tried to have a serious relationship with a girl, everything would end up changing. Therefore, it would never become too serious between us two.
I was better than some people I later met, who said they were turned-out as a young teenager by an older guy, friend of the family, or in some cases, by a family member. As I said before, no one molested me as a kid. I was just able to sample life’s offering, and made a choice as to what tasted better to me. I said it before, and I’ll say it again...I love my beautiful Nubian sisters. After all, where else could this handsome prince come from?