Author's note and acknowledgements
This story has sat on my hard drive for four years now.
I wrote it, all twenty chapters and 95,000 words of it in eight days of a frenzied, near trance-like state, sitting on my couch with my wife's laptop. She would occasionally have to remind me to eat.
When the dust settled, and I looked up, I realized a couple of things: one, I had just written a fucking novel in a week, whoa. Two, it seemed to be pretty damn good, double whoa. And three, what the hell was I going to do with it?
I tried editing it, I even enlisted the help of a Lit-Editor, who was invaluable for early editing, and confirming it was in fact, pretty good, or readable at least. I spent several months then, editing, unashamedly forcing it on writer friends to read, regular friends to read, and total strangers on writer boards. Everyone had different opinions of course, as people do, but all of them seemed to think it was pretty good, and I should probably try to do something with it.
So I spent another year trying to sell it.
Well nothing happened.
And I can't blame them, agents and publishers. It's kind of a niche story, hard to market. It's got too much sex for a coming age story, too much teenage drama for adult fiction, and not a single word about vampires or bondage to make it work as erotic fiction.
So it's sat on my hard drive for four years. I'll occasionally open it up, tinker with a line, or try to figure out how to re-work it into something more marketable. I always end up wasting a weekend trying to figure out how to change it, without losing the essence of the thing which I, and several others, feel is, "pretty good."
So fuck it. Here you go Literotica. I just want people to read it. I want people to get to know Jack the way I did. Writing his life made me feel like I was a part of it. He's a pretty good guy, I wish I knew him in real life.
So NEXT, some disclaimers.
This is a coming of age story. Which means first it starts out when the characters are too young to have sex (on literotica.) So there's no sex for a couple chapters. I hope that's okay. Second, this is a novel length story, including the prologue and epilogue, there are twenty-one chapters in all. Some are longer than others, and there is not a sex scene in every one. (Though some have more than one.) More importantly, sex is a thing that happens, it's not written to be titillating, but rather just as events in Jack's life.
So there you go. It's a story with sex in it, not a story about sex. I think it's pretty good anyway.
If you have not read the first chapter, please click on my profile and pick the story up at the beginning, its better that way, trust me.
*****
The encounter with Tommy bothered me the rest of the afternoon, well into the evening really. I was thinking about the might-have-beens while driving Kimmy home for the evening. We'd been studying at my house, and it was a little after midnight. Class started at 7:15 am tomorrow, and I still had three chapters of physics to read before I went to bed.
"You okay?" she asked at about the half-way point.
"Hmm, just tired. Zoning out, sorry," I said.
"Must be," she grinned, "You just drove past the turn off to our spot."
'Our spot' was a quiet back road we'd found that was pretty good for making out in the car. It was pretty standard for me to stop there for a while when dropping her off.
"Sorry baby, I'm really tired, and I got a lot of work waiting for me still at home before I can go to bed," I said, which was mostly true.
"It's fine. You've been running around like a maniac all year. I don't know how you keep up with everything," she said and her voice was soft and tender. Her private voice for me; the one she used when we were alone. It made me feel special. Maybe I was imagining it, but it made me feel good she had something that was for me only, even if it was just a particular tone of voice.
Maybe that's what prompted me to speak up. Maybe I just needed someone to open up too.
Pause again.
I think we've already established that I was not very manly. I cried when upset, I squealed like a little kid, at least internally, when excited, and I thought about other people's feelings and stuff. With years of experience and hindsight of course I know that everyone does this stuff, even grown-ass men. But at eighteen, I still thought it was the 1940's. Men didn't cry, they didn't talk about their feelings, and they never confessed weakness unless they were outnumbered three to one and about to be dumpstered.
But I was tired. Beyond tired really. Mentally and physically spent. Kimmy was more than just a friend now. More even than just a really close friend with benefits. More even than a passing infatuation. We'd been together for almost six months, and having sex for three of those. She was my lover. I loved her. I was pretty sure she loved me. Though we'd never said it out loud.
I needed to talk to someone about Tommy. If I couldn't trust her, then I really did have no one.
We were almost to her house, when I asked her.
"Kim, do you think I'm a nerd?"
She looked back over at me, surprise on her face, "What? No of course not."
"But you used too right?" I pressed.
"Well, freshman year, yeah, I guess," she shrugged, "But I haven't for a long time."
I sighed, "When did you stop?"
She bit her lip, not in a sexy way, in a thoughtful way.
"I dunno, maybe a couple of months after you started hanging out with us," she said after a minute or so.
"So, when I started going to parties and dressing differently," I said.
She nodded, "Yeah probably. I mean at first, yeah I guess. I didn't know what to think. But once I got to know you, I liked you. You're funny, smart, and we know how I like smart." she grinned suggestively.
I shook my head, "If that was all, then you'd be all over Tommy Johnston."
"Who?"
I swallowed. Guilt. I was stabbed by guilt.
"Tommy Johnston, he's in our class, you had Junior World Events with him last year," I said. Everyone had to take the world events class, regardless of academic placement, there was no advanced version.
She furrowed her brow and thought about it.
"He's a couple inches shorter than me. Kind of shaggy brown hair, a little bit heavy set."
"Oh - my God! Yes, I know him. Ew, no way!" she laughed and punched my arm lightly on the arm. It was a flirtatious punch.
"Why not? He's funny, and just as smart, if not smarter than me," I continued.
She shook her head, "No way! He's gross. He smells funny too, like he doesn't shower enough. He's totally a creep too. He was like, stalking Mindy last year. Like, spying on her at her house and stuff. Her dad had to call the police."
