Getting To The Good Pt 1

Warning, this story may contain sexual content involving men or boys. If this is not to your tastes, please leave now.

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Getting To The Good

By "J"

October, 2000 ©

Pt 1

Chapter I

I realized something about myself as I watched Craig McLemore jack off that hot July afternoon. Peeking around the outer pane of his bedroom window, I came to the conclusion that I was definitely into the male body, Craig's in particular. He was laying back on his bed, legs spread, shorts and Fubu boxers at his ankles, his fist locked around a dick that sprang from his palm like a fat, brown mushroom. I stared without shame.

Craig, my brother Duane's best friend and football teammate, was stout (5'8"), beefy (180 lbs.), buff and big (size 11 shoe). I never gave much thought to that old shoe size-dick size theory, but judging from the piece Craig held in his slippery hand, the two were somehow related. Craig was toffee-toned with gray eyes that changed to green when he was pissed. I didn't know that they also turned blue under on other occasions, but that's a story that will come later...

That day, I didn't glimpse much of his eyes; what I saw through that window was hella better anyway. Craig gave himself the royal shakedown, his hand working over his piece in up-and-down swivel mode. He had a mean left hook near his arrow-shaped pink head, which was capped with a globe of clear pre-cum that grew larger, eventually spilling down his shaft as his five-finger massage picked up speed.

Images from the TV screen across the room left shadows of color on his face. I ducked under the window and rose up on the other side to get a better look at the porn flick Craig was obviously watching. Probably something with some silicone snow queen in black fuck-me pumps, I thought. I peered at the screen from my limited view, squinting to make out what was happening. My jaw dropped.

Craig, the guy voted Mr. Irresistible two years in a row by all the honeys at Vanderbilt High, was about to bust his nut watching two brothers body bumping atop a kitchen counter! My breath grew shallow; as I tried to collect myself, I felt the sudden pain of a massive hard-on in my own pants. I swallowed my mouth dry as sandpaper. What would Duane and my other brothers say if they saw me here, like this? They'd kick my ass all the way home, then tell pop so he could kick my ass all the way up to my room, I thought. The danger element kicked my pulse way up, but instead of sending me on my way home, it made me aware of the seclusion present in the McLemore's backyard.

They lived two blocks away from us, their house bordered on both sides by vacant lots. A white-painted wooden fence snaked up the left side of the house; on the right, manicured hedges kept unwanted eyes from glimpsing the backyard. The backyard itself bordered Lafayette Park, separated from the park grounds by a cluster of old elms and dense thicket.

No, I thought, turning my attention back to Craig, there's no way anyone can see me over here. I wasn't a peeping tom, at least not before that day. I had a legitimate reason for being at the McLemore's. Mom had sent me over there looking for Duane, who was missing in action and known for spending half his time over Craig's anyway, especially during the summer. I'd heard the bass kicking from Craig's sound system long before I reached his house. But instead of going to the front door and knocking, I slipped around to the back where Craig's room was located.

With Craig blasting his music, there was no way anyone would hear me knock anyway. I figured I'd just go and beat on his window and get his attention that way. But when I got to the window, I found a shock bigger than anything I'd ever experienced in my life!

By the time I returned to watching Craig, his brown body was glistening with little pebbles of sweat. His hand moved over his rigid shaft in a blur; tossing his head back, Craig sent a ribbon of cum dancing through the air, dousing the TV screen a few feet away. Another geyser landed on the floor. The rest of his eruption left his legs dripping with strings of clear fluid. He continued to massage himself, milking more cum from his inflated balls. I stared, transfixed. I can't describe the numbness I felt watching Craig, mouth open, chest heaving, as he rolled with that powerful orgasm.

I pressed my face into the windowpane, hoping to experience a bit of his pleasure. Craig stood and shook his hand, sending droplets of cum flying. Several specs landed on the window. Involuntarily, I stuck my tongue out and slid it along the glass. In my fixation, I didn't notice that Craig's eyes had wandered to the window and that he was staring directly at me. His eyes were grass green. I backed away from the window and began to run toward the shelter of the trees at the edge of the backyard. Behind me, I heard a window open. I stopped and glanced back. Craig stared at me retreating, his face blank as a sheet of notebook paper. I held his gaze one second before continuing into the woods. His eyes looked a strange blue when I last looked at him. As I made my way home, my heart leaping, my dick jutting against my navel, I couldn't help wondering what the new color change signified...

CHAPTER II

"Can you keep a secret?" I had to tell somebody, and my cousin Marvin was as good a person as anybody. At 22, Marv was five and a half years older than I, but looked much closer to my age. He was all the way out the closet, and because of it, none of my four brothers wanted anything to do with him, even though he was our only first cousin living in town. I was the only one who kept in touch with Marv.

"What?" he asked. "I think Craig McLemore is gay." Marv stared back at me. He grinned. "Now, what would make you say something like that? Wishful thinking?" I frowned. "From what I've heard, McLemore is straight as an arrow, with all the females at Vanderbilt High to vouch for it."

"Remember what Ma' Dear used to say--believe half of what you see and none of what you hear," I said. "And I'm not talking about what I heard, Marv. I'm talking about what I saw." "Then, that's only halfway reliable," Marv said, laughing. Seeing my frustration, he straightened up. "Okay, okay. What did you see, lil' cuz?"

I stood and walked over to the window, looking five stories down to the pavement below. "This can't leave the room, Marv. It happened yesterday," I began. "I went to the McLemore's looking for Duane..." When I finished telling my story, Marv cleared his throat and asked if I wanted something to drink. He went into the kitchen to fetch some refreshments and when he returned, neither of us spoke for quite awhile.

"So, tell me, Tracy. What made you stay there and watch?" I buried my mouth under the glass of pop, thankful for the distraction it provided. What could I say? "Look, Marv. I'm not gay," was the words that popped out first, followed by, "It' just...I don't know, you know? What do you wan me to say?"

Marv reached into a desk drawer, shuffled the contents and pulled out a business card. Without a word, he handed it to me. The name in bold read "Cyrus Colter" followed by the GMAAD of St. Louis logo. Under that, in smaller type were the words "Coordinator, Community Programs."

"What do you want me to do with this?" "
That's up to you, lil' cuz. But I'd suggest you call Cy and at least talk to him. You may not be gay, Trace. But you do have some issues you obviously need to talk about. I mean, straight dudes don't usually get hard watching other dudes jack off, cuz."

How did he know that? I'd purposely left that detail out of my story. "What are you talking about?" "Tracy, it's in your eyes. It's all in your eyes." I sat the glass on the table and looked at my watch. "Look, I gotta jet," I said. "It's already two and I'm supposed to pick Duane up from football camp."

"Cool. But don't be a stranger. You're the only one in our family who gives a damn about me. I wouldn't want you to turn on me. I'm only trying to help, cuz." I assured him I understood, even though I really didn't.

Downstairs, as I unlocked the car door, I realized that I still held the business card in my hand. I slipped it into my pocket and drove off. As I flowed into the congested arteries of traffic criss-crossing our city, images of Craig lying naked on his bed haunted me. I could hardly concentrate on driving as thoughts of Craig's bulky biceps...his thick thighs and long, lean hook of a dick kept returning to me.

With each technicolor image, a voice inside my head screamed "I am not gay, I am not gay" until I couldn't hear myself think anymore. I almost ran a red light, then barely missed rear-ending a minivan that merged into my lane. What the hell is happening to me? I flicked on the car radio, hoping the music would settle my thoughts. To my horror, my favorite station was pumping Jon B's "They Don't Know." I scanned quickly to the classic R&B station my parents listened to, only to hear Patti LaBelle belting out "If Only You Knew."

No, I don't know, I thought. I don't know, and I don't want to know either! I moved into the fast lane and cruised down the highway toward the high school's football field. When I arrived, my mind was so elsewhere that I nearly ran over someone. I slammed on my brakes and swerved to the right. The frightened pedestrian jumped on the hood of the car to avoid being hit. "What th fuck is wrong--" He made eye contact with me, his eyes blazing an intimidating deep green. "You," Craig said, getting off the hood and walking toward the driver's side door...

Chapter III

Craig beat on the window, but it was as if I didn't know what to do. Staring at him through the glass, I found myself remembering the last time I'd been in this situation--and all that I had seen. His beating finally penetrated my conscious. I rolled down the window.

"Yo, kid. What the hell you smoking? You trying to kill me or something?" "
Naw, Craig. I just...I wasn't paying attention, aight? Quit sweating me. I got things on my mind." We exchanged a look that made me regret what I'd said. This was the first time I'd been near him since yesterday, and for the first time, I felt uncomfortable being in his company.

"If you looking for your brother, he just hit the showers, which by the way, is where I was getting ready to go before you tried to make me kiss pavement." That meant I'd have to wait. I pulled over and parked, watching Craig as he continued his walk to the boy’s locker room. Why couldn't I take my eyes off his little strut? I wondered. These strange feelings were confusing the hell out of me.

When Duane emerged from the boy’s gym, Craig was at his side. Watching them walking toward me, I was struck by their differences. Duane towered over Craig at 6'3". Where Craig was a perfect brown, Duane, like all the men in my family, was dark as midnight. They were both cut, but because of Craig's compact size, his muscles made more of an impression.

"Craig needs a ride," Duane said, hopping into the passenger's seat. Craig slid into the backseat on my side. "That okay with you, peeps?" he asked. Peeps? I cut my eyes in the rearview mirror and found Craig's gray eyes fixed on mine. What the hell was wrong with him? To my relief, Duane was fumbling with the radio and hadn't paid Craig's wisecrack any attention. "It's cool."

Seconds after I tore out of there, Duane informed me that he wanted to be dropped off at his girl's house. Since she lived closer to the school than we did, he'd have to get out first, which would leave me alone with Craig on the ride home.

"Does mom know you're going?" I asked. I needed an excuse, any excuse, to keep him in the car. "Yeah, she'll know after you tell her," Duane said. Like my three other brothers, Duane never could sense when I needed help. "Well, let me run Craig home first."

Duane looked at me like I'd suggested jumping out on the highway buck-naked. "And you're supposed to be the family brain? Look, fool, run me to Tisha's house first. It's only three blocks away." I wanted to argue further. I wanted to drive right past the exit that led to Tisha's house. But I didn't. I knew that if I made a bigger deal about it, even my astute-less big bro would figure something was up. Rather than risk it, I shut up.

Duane got dropped off at Tisha's. Craig climbed into the passenger seat without a word. I drove in silence after Duane got out. The air conditioning was on full blast; still, I could feel sweat forming on my forehead. I could finally name what I was feeling: nervousness--that same kind of nervousness I felt in fifth grade when Portia Lytle asked me to be her boyfriend.

"So you gon' act like I ain't here?" Craig asked. I glanced at him for a second. He was smirking.
" What do you want me to say?" "
Oh, I see." He leaned back in the seat. "We supposed to pretend like yesterday didn't happen." My heart rate was jumping.
"What do you mean?"
"Never mind, never mind," he said. "I can play your game, too, peeps."

I slammed on the brakes and looked him dead in the eye. "Don't call me that shit NO more." He chuckled. "And what's gonna go down if I do? You gon' tell?"

Those last three words made it come back...like it was only yesterday and not half my lifetime ago. Duane hadn't been home that day. I was, and I was bored. When Craig came over, I begged him to play me with. He stayed and we played. I can't remember every thing, however, I know we played "house."

He, being older, decided to be "Dad," which left me "Mom." I knew when Craig locked the door, something bad might happen. I didn't stop him, though.
"We getting ready to make a baby," Craig said.

I didn't know what he was talking about. I was like 8 years old and for all I knew, the stork was the one who made babies. "You gotta take off your shorts."

I shook my head no. That was wrong. Craig pulled his down. When I saw his "thing" pointing at me, I put my hand over my mouth.

"Turn over," he said. This time, I did what he said. As I pulled the next images from my memory, I realized that I'd let Craig take off my shorts after all, that he'd put his "thing" between my butt. But that was all I remembered. Had he.. did he...

I pulled over and put the car in park. When I looked over at Craig to ask, I couldn't believe what I saw. Craig was laid back, his legs open, pulling his mesh shorts up his thighs, inch by inch, exposing an ever-familiar dick that was thickening against his thigh...

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