Two Southern Gentlemen

Content/trigger warning: This series contains bullying, homophobic language, and non-consensual sexual acts, but they are integral to the plot and character development so please take them in context.

JESSE

I guess it must be around two in the morning, and I'm jacking off for the third time in 24 hours.

The first time was watching that video from this afternoon. The second time was when I was trying to fall asleep. And now I've been left with a raging hard on and no choice but to relieve it myself. This isn't the way I was thinking I would be cumming tonight, although to be honest I'd been so caught up in the moment I hadn't thought that far ahead. Anyway, if I had been able to think ahead there are about a hundred other ways I could have imagined cumming since as of about five minutes ago I was having the most amazing sexual experience in my life. But I guess by now I should know that life doesn't give a shit about me and I should always, always expect the worst.

This j/o is definitely the most mechanical of the three, and in a few seconds I'm done, my cum shooting onto the ground where it's still wet from splatters of my piss. Whether or not it feels good barely even registers, I feel so emotionally battered.

This night has been a fucking rollercoaster, this whole week, and now I really am wiped out. I just want to crawl into bed, curl up into a ball, and think about it later. No, I actually already know I don't want to think about it again ever.

I stumble home and try not to think about anything, check that the little 'uns are still fast asleep, and collapse onto my cot outside. The trailer gets crowded with all the kids, so when I can I sleep outside. Blue is there, and as always she reads my mood perfectly and puts her wet nose up in my face. I lean over and hug her tightly and bury my face in her fur, something I haven't done in years, and when I finally lift my head I realize her fur is wet and that I've been crying. Why am I crying? Why the hell am I crying? But that emotional release does the trick at last and then finally I'm able to fall into a deep sleep, the first time this whole damn week.

***

When I wake up the sun is coming up and for a second I imagine that I dreamt the whole thing. That would make way more sense than what actually happened yesterday. The sequence of events rushes back. Did that fucker, I mean, Dusty, did he actually show up yesterday afternoon? And did I actually threaten him with a knife and make a video recording of me pissing on him? And did he not only apologize for everything, but then he asked me, fucking asked me, to piss on him again? Just thinking about everything that happened makes me think that I must be completely insane. I do a quick check that yes, I remember my name and my birthday, yes, I know the names of all my family members, yes I know what town I live in and my phone number... Fuck, I think with a huge sigh. I guess I'm not insane.

But I know it's not a dream, because I will never, ever forget what happened last night, not for as long as I live. And even though I wish I could forget how it ended, the rest of it was, well, fucking amazing. In a word, it was intense. The change I saw in him once he realized I wasn't going to post the video. The sincerity of his apology, which looking back I can recognize as being completely sincere. The cute and boyish way he asked to be pissed on, like a kid asking for another cookie. The way he submitted to me, deferred to me... respected me. The feeling of having that much power over anyone, let alone him. And then the way he lapped up that piss, the way he loved it so much, just as much as I loved giving it to him, I could see that he loved it every bit as much as I did.

But what I will also never, ever forget, and what haunts me now, is that moment he froze when his mouth touched my dick accidentally and that look in his eyes. It was more than a deer caught in headlights. It was like he saw his life flashing before him and he knew that if he moved his mouth even a fraction of an inch further, if even a fraction more of my dick touched his mouth, that his life would be over, as surely as if I released that video.

I recognized that blind panic, because I know it firsthand. Momma died before I was old enough to even think about guys that way, and by that time my daddy was too drunk all the time to notice any signs of his son being a damn fairy. I didn't really care that much about being gay. Once I hit puberty I just knew I was and never questioned it. I accepted it and then just didn't waste time worrying about it much because I was already so busy with school and taking care of the kids I didn't have the time or energy to worry about it. Not being a regular churchgoer helped too, I guess. No hangups about how much Jesus hates the gays or how I would be doomed to eternal damnation.

The one thing I was worried about was my older brother, Jimmy. He was the one who practically raised me since Momma died, he was my brother, but also my momma, my daddy, my best friend, he was my whole world and I worshipped him. Disappointing him in anything would have killed me. If Jimmy knew... I was almost afraid he could read my mind, the fantasies I had about guys, or that he would be able to tell I was gay by my mannerisms, like the way I walked or the way I talked. I walked on eggshells, I lived in almost daily terror of what Jimmy would say if he found out, if he would hate me, curse me, disown me... I avoided him, and I pretended I didn't notice that it hurt him that I didn't want to spend time with him. I think he thought it was just that I was growing older and didn't need him as much as when I was younger. Worrying about what Jimmy would say, I know now that that's a big reason why I didn't fight him that hard when he told me he had to leave us. Because if he was gone then he would never know about me and I would never have to see that look of disappointment or maybe even hate in his eyes. I still don't know what I would do if he found out and hated me for it.

That deep, deep terror... that's what I saw in Dusty's pretty blue eyes. But I also see how it's worse, much worse for him than for me. I don't have any friends, and the only person I cared about finding out was Jimmy. Dusty has tons of friends, a perfect girlfriend, a rich daddy, his whole life is football practically, and everyone in this whole football-loving town loves him... It's easier for someone like me who has nothing. I don't even have to tell people that I'm gay, because either they don't give two shits about trailer trash like me in the first place, or they just assume that the quiet studious kid is the gay kid in the school. In a way that's made it easier at school, everyone assuming, and since no one talks to me no one's flat out asked me and I haven't had to say one way or the other, and most people don't even really know who I am anyway. Dusty and his crew call me a fag all the time, but that's not why they beat up on me. It's not like they ever actually saw me doing anything gay. They would have beat up on me whether I was gay or not.

But, I remember, still with wonder and amazement, that was the old Dusty. Not the Dusty I met last night. That was someone different, a Dusty I've never met before, one I never even imagined could exist. The Dusty from last night wasn't the bully who's made my life hell, the asshole who walks around like he owns the world. That Dusty was... sensitive. Thoughtful. Sincere. Glimmers of a sense of humor. Not to mention damn cute and fucking sexy.

Is he gay? Is he confused? Honestly I guess it doesn't even matter. I know I'm never going to see that Dusty again, if he even really exists. It's not like we actually have anything in common. It's better this way anyway.

But a small voice keeps nagging at me. Better for him, sure, he has his old life to go back to, but better for you? No way. He showed you what you've been missing since Jimmy left.

Last night, it wasn't much time at all really, but that intense feeling of... connection. With Jimmy we were connected because we'd been through so much together, with our momma dying too young and with our daddy afterwards, taking care of the kids together. With Dusty, pretty much a complete stranger, that connection was somehow even deeper and like nothing I've ever felt before, and I could almost swear that he felt it too. It's like we were completely in sync, wanting and needing the same thing, the giving and receiving perfectly matched, perfectly in step, like a perfectly synchronized dance or song, and we were able to communicate without even using any words. He felt it too, right? He must have... right?

I can't help but remember my first and only other gay experience. There's this website you can post anonymous personal ads on and stuff, like if you want to sell an old couch or if you have an apartment for rent, stuff like that. Our town's not big enough to have its own section, but people from our town and other towns in the area post to the section of the site for the bigger city that's nearby. Anyway, I found out about the site not long after I got my own phone, and I would check the "men looking for men" section in the personals part of the site. There were the same couple of creepy desperate-sounding old guys who posted to it regularly looking for sex, but one day this guy around my age posted saying he was in high school and just wanted to email with someone in the same situation. I was so nervous when I replied to his ad, I made a fake email account and everything, but we got to know each other online.

His name was Will, and he seemed pretty nice. Dark brown hair and brown eyes, a little taller than average height, medium build. He lived in the city, and even though he wasn't popular at his school he wasn't an outcast like me either. Just sort of in the middle all around. We started off talking about school and classes and movies and if anyone at our schools was out (nope, big surprise), but before too long we were telling each other about our dick sizes, what we've done sex-wise (basically nothing), our fantasies, who we had crushes on at school, horny teenage gay boy stuff like that. It was fun to have a gay friend, even an online one, but he kept wanting to meet, and I kept putting him off. He told me straight out he wanted us to swap blowjobs, but I felt kind of weird about it.

First off, what if he wasn't really who he said he was and he was actually someone I knew from school who was just messing with me, or what if he was an old guy or some crazy neo-Nazi or something who was just trying to lure me in so he could beat the shit out of me, or worse. Second of all, I guess I still sort of felt like sex should be more romantic, like with someone you really liked. Yeah, I know that's old-fashioned and dumb, but I guess that's what you get for reading a lot. Anyway, I guess I felt more comfortable with him after months of emailing and I was so damn horny all the time, and I figured I didn't want to graduate high school without having any experience so I finally agreed to meet him.

The whole experience was nerve-racking. Our family used to go to the city a couple of times a year when I was a kid to see some cousins, but that was a long, long time ago. I figured out which bus I needed to take and made up a reason to ask Ms. Lucille to watch the little 'uns for me one night, and the whole hour long bus ride to the city I felt like I was going to piss myself from nervousness and my heart was beating really fast.

I met him at a McDonald's (I may be a horny gay teenager, but I'm not completely stupid), and I was relieved to see that he looked like his pictures, better actually, and he was pretty nice in person. We sat there for a while and it was super awkward at first, but we talked about stuff we had been emailing about so we both felt more relaxed before too long. He had recently gotten his license and had borrowed his parents' car for the night, so even though I was still paranoid that he might be a neo-Nazi or something I agreed to drive with him to an empty parking lot he knew of that was on the edge of town and that he said would be completely private. He was a little shorter than me but he wasn't muscular at all, so I figured I could fight him off if I had to.

It wasn't that far away, and we didn't talk much as he drove. I guess he was pretty nervous too. He parked and it was like he said, there was no one around at all and it was pretty dark. We got into the back seat and he asked me what I wanted to do. I said, "I don't know, whatever you want, I guess", and so we started kissing and then French kissing and putting our hands up each other's shirts and eventually down each other's pants. It was winter and pretty cold, well, as cold as Georgia gets, so when we took off our shirts and pulled our underwear and pants down we were both kind of shivering with the car heat off. Although I guess that could have partly been out of nervousness too. He sucked me off first, and it felt kind of ticklish but pretty good, I guess, and I was ready to cum pretty quickly so I pushed him off of me and came on my stomach. He had some paper towels ready and helped me wipe myself off, and then it was my turn.

I bent over his cock, which was about six inches and not too thick, took a deep breath, and then stuck it in my mouth. He must have just showered because it smelled faintly of soap and tasted clean, and I bobbed up and down on it trying to imitate what he had done, sucking it hard some, sucking it loosely some, sucking on his cock head some, trying to take it as deep as I could a couple of times, although my gag reflex immediately kicked in and I had to stop and make sure that I wasn't going to throw up on him. He kept trying to push my head down on it more which kind of annoyed me, but I guess I must have done it okay overall because it didn't take him long either and he came the same way I did, on his stomach. And then it was my turn to help him clean himself up.

We pulled up our pants because by then it had gotten pretty cold in his parents' car, and he said he really wanted to try anal too. By that point I'd had enough (no way was I going to actually fuck anyone) and I said I had to get back to catch the bus, which was true, so we put on the rest of our clothes and got back in the front seats. And then he dropped me off at the bus station. There was this awkward moment where we weren't sure how to say bye in the parking lot of the bus station. It was late and there weren't any people around so I guess we could've kissed like we'd just done when when we were making out, but it's not like we were dating or anything. That kind of really hit the point home to me that it's kind of weird to have sex with someone you don't really care about. Maybe it's just me. So anyway, we just said bye and that we'd catch up later.

We didn't really talk much after that. He was a little older than me, and I think by that time he was getting braver and was finding out about places to cruise or secret gay bars tucked away around the city, but I was happy to let our emailing die out. Will was nice, but I don't know, he was just kind of... boring. Just kind of average all around. Nice enough, but not that memorable, not a lot of personality. Not unattractive, but not that handsome, not dumb, but not that smart, not that funny, not that interesting, just sort of in the middle. I don't know. I guess that makes me sound really arrogant, like I'm better than him, but I dunno. I guess I could see that other people could want to be with him, but I just wasn't really into him beyond just chatting some. I realized that just because someone else is gay doesn't mean that they're compatible any more than if you took a random guy and a random girl at school and put them together that they would be compatible. Well, overall I didn't really regret that being my first experience. As things go it wasn't too bad and it could have been a lot worse, and at least I wasn't going to die a complete virgin.

I hadn't thought about all that stuff with Will, all that fumbling around in the back seat of his parents' car, in months, and thinking about it now it does feel kind of sad. Before I met him I thought it would be nice to only have sex with someone I loved, but I guess beggars can't be choosers. I guess there aren't that many gay people around these parts and I'm going to have to have sex with whoever I can find, and eventually I'm going to have to settle down with a guy who's relatively good-looking and nice enough and isn't an asshole, if I can even find another gay person in this small town.

But then, last night with Dusty... The new Dusty... Every second with that person was worth more than a year, no, more than a lifetime with a guy like Will. And even though Dusty has the looks and body of a model, my attraction to him was definitely way, way more than that. I guess now I know what they mean by chemistry. That's what it boils down to. I'd had zero chemistry with Will. And my chemistry with Dusty was off the fucking charts.

Fuck, why am I torturing myself remembering, comparing Dusty with Will?

Dusty must have felt it too, right? That chemistry? He must have felt it... Right?

What the hell does it matter. I see that look in his eyes again, Dusty with his lips just barely kissing the tip of my dick, looking up at me with this mix of lust, sheer panic, and also a kind of deep despair. Somehow I felt that if I made even the slightest movement forward, pushed the head of my cock into that hungry, wet, pink mouth even a fraction of an inch further, that he would take it. Right then that temptation for me to do just that was so, so strong, overpoweringly strong. I could see he wanted to try it, that he would probably enjoy it, that he might even be relieved that I had decided for him. I could see the struggle on his face as he knelt frozen, his lips just touching my dick, but my struggle to not move, to let him make the decision by himself, was every bit as strong. In the clear light of day I'm so, so relieved I didn't move. Like when I decided not to release that video, it's as clear as day to me that making him take my cock, deciding it for him, would have been completely, absolutely, entirely wrong, that using whatever power I had over him last night, to use my control and the lust of the moment to nudge him over the line would have been absolutely unforgivable. Dusty had to decide for himself what he wanted.

...

...

And he chose to go. He chose to turn his back on... whatever it was that we were discovering together. And who could blame him. Why would anyone choose... me? Poor as dirt geeky trailer trash no-future fag me.

I heave a giant sigh and almost feel my eyes watering up again. Christ, what is wrong with me? My sigh was so big that Lissa looks up from where she's been quietly digging a hole for her dolly in the dirt with a stick and skips over to me to crawl up into my lap. I hold her tight and wonder why I'm wasting so much time thinking about someone who I was saying just yesterday I wanted to just leave me alone forever, that I would be more than happy to never see again. Somehow all my hatred of Dusty has been replaced by... something else. Well, not all of it. Whatever happened with Dusty yesterday doesn't excuse everything he did to me before that. The memory of all of that is still fresh, and like I told him, three years of torture can't all be forgiven and forgotten just like that. But thinking about it now, all that abuse is an open wound that I can look at instead of just try to shove down and try to ignore, because now all that stuff, that happened with the old Dusty. The old Dusty did that to me, and I can see that that old Dusty, he's the same person as the new Dusty, even though they seem like completely different people. The new Dusty is the one who's sorry for what he did. The one who I felt that weird, immediate, natural, deep connection to. Can people really entirely change, just like that? Or was the new Dusty somehow inside the old Dusty all along and just buried deep inside for some reason? And exactly what was it that made the new Dusty appear all of a sudden?