Acting as Friends
By It's Only Me from Across the Sea
This story contains explicit descriptions of sexual acts between the characters in it. Although the characters are teenagers who may be below the age of consent in the country or state where this is read, nothing written here should be taken as approval of, or encouragement for, sexual liaisons between people where such liaisons are either illegal, or objectionable for moral reasons. Although this story does not include safe sex practices, it is everyone's own responsibility to themselves and to each other to engage only in PROTECTED SEX. It is a story. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Nothing represented here is based on any fact known to the author.
This is where I get to embarrass someone greatly. Someone with hazel eyes. Someone who is my very best internet friend in the whole world. Someone without whose friendship I would have been still finding it difficult to understand who I am. The person who said to me "You can write. Just do it." Comicality? Take a bow. This story is for you.
The story is copyright 1999 by "Its Only Me from Across the Sea". If you copy the story, please leave the credits, and the web address of http://iomfats.org present, and also the email address of its_onlyme@iomfats.org. I'd love to receive feedback.
I wondered how it would be. I think I'd always wondered. I'd spent so much of my life wondering about things. Why I was always the kid who wasn't picked for teams. Why I was always elbowed to the back of the queue for dinner. Why I was never invited to parties.
And I wondered. Not just why, but when. Here I was, seventeen years old. I'd passed my driving test, had my Dad's car to drive if I was really lucky, and no friends. None. Not one single friend. No-one to tell about my hopes and fears. No-one to laugh with, no-one even to cry with. And I'd done a lot of crying. Since Mum died. When I was twelve I think she was my only real friend. And she'd died.
I wasn't so much sad as angry. She'd left me just when I needed her most. When I needed to talk to her. When I needed to tell her.... well, never mind what I needed to tell her. And I had no-one left. My Dad? Nice guy, good at his job, I suppose, but no good at affection. Love? Sure, in plenty. "I love you, Freddie. We'll always be the best of friends, won't we?"
Yeah, good at love. But not at showing it. I wasn't too big for a hug, or a cuddle. Not to old for an arm round my shoulders. Or even a kiss on the cheek. Well, who cares if it's soppy. I hadn't been kissed, except by aunts, since I was twelve years old. Nor hugged. Not by my Dad. And I couldn't tell him. Especially not him.
I'm Freddie. In case you were wondering, that is. Freddie sounds much nicer than Frederick, so I'm Freddie. Freddie Johnson. Freddie Johnson, who was seventeen three months ago. Freddie Johnson, seventeen, missing his Mum so bad it hurts. Freddie bloody Johnson, who is so deeply in love that he can taste it, who needs someone to talk to, and can't. And who can't get near the person he loves. Freddie Johnson, who is so deeply in love with Sean Richards that he is desperate for even a harsh word from him.
And what is love? All I've got is the hurt. The hurt of seeing Sean every day at school. The hurt of having him look right past me. Not through me, you understand, but past me, as though he doesn't see me. I mean through me would kind of acknowledge that I existed, that there was someone to look through.
Well, he didn't actually ignore me, because you can't ignore someone who doesn't seem to exist as far as you are concerned. We were in the same classes, and we talked about school things. We did talk, so I'm being oversensitive, but we never talked about anything socially. So it felt like to him I was nobody.
So I buckled down, and got on with my schoolwork, and idolised Sean. Idolised him. And had wild fantasies about him.
Wild?
Wild.
How do I describe him? Light auburn hair, a soft colour, reminding me of summer, with curious eyes. Not brown, I think 'hazel' describes them best. Almost all colours of brown, with a greenish hint, just a hint, to them. His face? Like a young god! An oval face, open, smiling from the eyes, rosy glow to his cheeks, and a small, smiling mouth, with just a hint of pink to his lips. Just a hint. No more. And when he smiled, a dimple on his right cheek, but not his left. A perfect nose, not large, not small, but all Sean. Slim, straight back, narrow waist. Easy, relaxed manner
And his hair was so soft, worn long, down to his jawbone, almost a 1960s style. Pageboy!
So beautiful, and always surrounded by his friends.
And I had schoolwork. And an aching in my heart, and a feeling of pure emptiness in my soul, in that place where love should be.
We were both in our last year at Monkton College. Both travelled to school on the same bus, both lived in neighbouring streets. And Sean sat at the back of the bus with his friends, and I sat at the front without anyone. I got off before him, so I couldn't even see him as he went past me, because he didn't.
Yeah, pathetic. I agree. Pathetic. And I loved him, and couldn't talk to him because I loved him. And I was also scared.
Because I loved him
Because he was a boy. And I'm a boy. And I'm scared because I don't want to be queer, gay, homo, a poof, a faggot. I don't want to be. I don't want to be! I'm not even sure that I am. After all, it's just Sean. Auburn haired Sean. Beautiful Sean. And I have no idea what to do anyway, especially because I'm so afraid that anything would revolt him. Anything. But I want to.
So I can't, couldn't, daren't say or do anything to attract his attention, even. And why would he look at me anyway?
I mean, I don't think I'm much to write home about! Ordinary guy, mouse brown hair which was bright blond once, pretty average face, 'normal' build. Not bad looking, but not good looking either.
But we were in our last year. And this was the final term, the summer term, of our last year. And we were going to go our own separate ways after that, probably never seeing each other again. I had to speak to him. At least speak to him. To hear him talk to me as a friend, or at least as a schoolmate!
And there was no real reason to, no excuse to talk to him.
As term progressed, I was becoming more and more frustrated with my total inability to make Sean take any notice of me. I'd known him for the whole five years we'd been at Monkton. In the beginning I thought we might have been friends. We were new boys together, much the same size, much the same age. We'd even hung out together for a bit. Then it had all stopped, sort of suddenly, and Sean had surrounded himself with a new group of friends. I'd been left out. It never looked as though it was on purpose, but I'd been left out. He wasn't unkind to me, he just took great pains not to notice me.
By half term I couldn't see the end of it. I mean, how do you strike up conversation with another boy and tell him you love him? I didn't even do the same things that he did. He was athletic. I was, was, well, was never even thought to be worth trying out! I couldn't run, and I didn't like it anyway, but surely I was worth a chance?
No, apparently I wasn't. Not even tried out on the athletics track. Sean was House Athletics Captain. He already knew I was a complete dork at athletics.
But what I could do was act. House plays, school plays, revues, I was in them all. And Mr Tomkins, our housemaster, had come up with the idea of a Leaver's Play, a sort of house entertainment, put on by us, the boys who were leaving for the entertainment of the rest of the house. It was to be on the last Thursday of term. No excuses, no exceptions.
And He chose the play we were going to do, as well. It was a romantic comedy. He cast me as Joe, and Sean as Amanda. We didn't have any girls, so boys always played the female roles. And we were male and 'female' lead. At least we would have lines to say to each other. That was almost talking. And I could be close to him, and look him in the eyes, and imagine what it would be like to be loved by him. I could imagine. Yes, imagine...
And we had all the time in rehearsals, I thought. And as I was thinking, I heard Sean's voice "I don't know how to learn my lines," he said.
He can't be talking to me, I thought, and carried on 'getting into the role'
"Freddie?"
He's talking to me. He's talking to me "Uh, yeah?"
"Freddie, you're good at this acting stuff?"
"I guess..."
"How do you learn your lines?"
"I could help you, if you like." My heart was beating nineteen to the dozen, and I thought my chest would burst. "We could read through them together, after school and stuff, if you want."
"Could you turn me into an actor, too? There's someone I want to impress," he added.
Someone he wants to impress. "Er, yeah, I can try." Who does he want to impress? His girlfriend, can she be coming? Our parents and friends were invited. Yeah, girlfriend. "Who do you want to impress? Is it your girlfriend?"
"Secret," he said. "They'll know at the right time. If I get it right."
Shit. He wants to impress someone. Well I guess it was inevitable. So I decided to help him. Two reasons: I wanted to be with him, just with him, and I wanted to be able to do something nice for him, because I loved him. "Yeah, OK. Look where can we get to work?"
"I guess we could stay in the houseroom. Or we could go back to mine. My folks are out until late." And he was smiling at me, and holding me in those beautiful eyes.
"I think yours would be better. I mean we'll get people telling us we're stupid here, and heckling us." I couldn't believe it. Invited to Sean's home. After all the time we'd been at school together, after all my non-existent efforts to talk to him, we were talking. And it was good!
We started that day, after school. I phoned my Dad to tell him where I was going to be, and not to worry if I was late. And we went back to his place, and started reading the play through. Well we started it as reading, but I helped him with a bit of coaching on acting, too. It wasn't a difficult play. It couldn't be, with the motley crowd we had acting in it. But it was a fun play. Loads of jokes, if only we could get the timing right.
We got a couple of cans of beer from his fridge, and got on with the play. It was really funny. We spent a whole load of time in fits of laughter. And we got on really well. Really well. Too good to be true.
And we had to get pretty close, too. I mean really close. We had to kiss. Well, a stage kiss. You know, heads away from the audience, make slurping noises, and head movements to look as though we were kissing. It was unbearable, and wonderful, too, having my arms around the boy I loved, pretending to kiss him, and being allowed to do it, being encouraged to do it, being asked to show him how to do it. And it was awful, as well. Except... No, my imagination, but I wished I had felt him tense as I put my arms around him. Tense for the right reasons, I mean
"You're really good at this, Freddie."
"Well, I've been in just about every play since I joined the school!" I laughed. "If I can't get it right and help you to do a good job, then I wouldn't be much of an actor, would I?"
"I guess not. I guess not..." he mused, and fixed me with the light from his eyes. "We've never really been friends, have we?"
"We could have been. Er, what I mean is, we might have been. I guess you were always into sport, and I wasn't. We were new together, just somehow never became friends. I've always liked you, sort of wished we could have been, er, be friends..." I finished kind of lamely.
"I think we might become friends, now. Before it's too late, I mean," he said. "I like you, too."
"So why don't we talk? Before today, I mean?"
"Not sure." Suddenly monosyllabic, withdrawn, eyes downcast, and starting to colour, just a little. "Er, I've always wanted to talk to you, be friends. I guess I couldn't, somehow..."
"Couldn't?"
"Er, can we leave it?" And he started to look, er, well odd, and at the floor.
"Sure, sorry. Look, let me read through the next bit with you?"
"OK..." and Sean seemed still a bit, well, odd.
But we got back to the play, and read through the next section. It was hugely funny, and we worked on the timing for the jokes. "We'll show old Tomkins, huh?" The old Sean again.
"We'll show him, all right. I'm going to turn you into an actor if it kills me!" 'Oh, just to hold you in my arms, if you knew what this is doing to me;' I was thinking. 'If you only knew what I wanted to do, to say, to tell you. If you only knew...'
And I was still thinking it when we rehearsed our next scene, the stage kiss.
I guess I was, because I found I was moving closer to his face than before, closer to his lips,
Closer. To. His. Lips
And I couldn't stop my lips from touching his lips, couldn't stop them. Didn't stop them.
I was going to kiss him. There. In his living room. Shit! I could always say I was acting. I was going to kiss him. Sean. Just once. Now! Time was running in slow motion. So slowly. And they touched his lips.
And he pulled, pulled, pulled me towards him. Towards him! Towards him!, and he was kissing me. With his tongue inside my mouth, fighting mine, fighting my tongue, and he was holding me. And his eyes were open. His beautiful eyes. And I was stroking his hair, well holding his head, pulling his mouth to mine. Violent, hard, pressing kissing. Violent hands, holding him, feeling passions I never knew, had never realised.
"Sean?" a little muffled, and no wonder.
"Mmmph?"
No, this wasn't the time for talking. He was unbuttoning my shirt, no ripping my shirt off, and I was doing the same to him. Unbelievable. Things I'd imagined, only imagined. And his hands were at my waist, my waistband, unclipping my waistband, unzipping my trousers, and he stopped kissing me and moved down. "Freddie?"
I was in heaven. I meant to say 'yes', but I squeaked instead of spoke.
"Freddie, I love you, and I want to show you how much..." and he took hold of my cock with his hand, his right hand. And I shivered, almost cumming with the touch. And he took the tip and withdrew my skin, and touched the tip with his tongue. "I want you, Freddie. All of you, if you'll have me, but first..." And he engulfed me with his hot mouth, gently, then harder, harder, almost chewing, but not hurting, except once by accident! And he brought me close, so close, and then stopped. "I want this to last," was all he said, as he moved back to my mouth with his lips, and he manoeuvred me to the sofa, and we spread onto it, against the soft leather; leather which stuck to my back.
"I can't believe this is happening -"
"Shh, Freddie, shh."
"But, Sean -"
"Shh -"
"I love you, too!"
And he broke down and wept. "I was so scared, until you kissed me," he said. "So scared. I couldn't ever talk to you, because I didn't dare." And he kissed me, and held me, held my cock in his hand, and I had his in mine.
"You're beautiful, Sean. I guess people are always telling you that?"
"Only the girls."
"But whom did you want to impress?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
"No"
"You, you idiot. I wanted to impress you, and then it didn't matter, because you were kissing me. And I was scared in case you were acting..."
"I didn't need to act. Er, but I do, now."
"What do you mean?"
"Sean, you started something I need to finish! And I need to do it for you, too, and I don't know how, or what, or anything."
"Nor do I. I've been watching Queer as Folk, on Channel 4 and sort of learnt from there."
"I've been watching that, too. Doesn't Nathan turn you on?"
"I prefer Vince! But that's not what I want to do, talk about TV. I want to make you happy, and to show you that I love you, and learn to be friends. But most of all, I want to make you cum! I want to love you, Freddie, to hold you and love you!"
And he knelt in front of me and was about to take my cock into his mouth, when I said "I want to do that, too." and pulled him up onto the sofa.
We juggled ourselves together, and I saw his beautiful manhood properly for the first time. So hard that it stood away from him, with his foreskin stretched drum-skin tight, just a little slack at the tip, where the skin covered the head fully, shaped almost like a pen nib, darker skin, auburn hair, bristly where that on his head was soft, and I touched him, and felt him pull back and push forward at the same time. And I carefully unwrapped his cockhead, sliding his foreskin back so gently, exposing the pink, shiny, polished cockhead, and showing precum leaking from the tip. And I kissed it. Salty. Unexpected. Slightly sticky, but slick at the same time, sweet and bitter. Wonderful, though salty. This was a taste I was going to acquire! Like Guinness. And, as I took him into my mouth, I felt him doing the same for me. And as he squeezed and sucked me, as every feeling became more intense, I tried, or hoped I tried to do the same for him. I felt it welling up inside me. That tensing, almost aching, that feeling of, of, of, oh, oh, oh oH OH OH! And as I came inside his mouth, the enormity of my love and his mouth made me suck, lick, squeeze and massage his cock between his beautiful balls and he asshole, and he came, pushing his cock almost into my throat, shooting his seed into me, shooting his soul into my soul. And I choked on it. And he was choking on me. And we turned round, or he did or I did, and kissed, mouth to mouth between choking, and tasted each other.
"Sean?" When I had recovered, I wanted to talk to him. "Sean, I've always loved you. I was never very brave, and I didn't dare..."
"Nor did I, nor was I..."
And we spent the evening naked on the sofa, exploring each other's bodies and each other's feelings, and kissing and talking, until we heard a car pull onto the driveway. "Shit! My parents!"
You've never seen two boys put on bits of each other's school uniform so quickly! I ended up with his shirt and one of his socks. And we made it. Just.
And the play? In the last scene, of the last act. When it came to the final kiss? I kissed him, on stage, in public, in full view of everyone. A real kiss. A proper kiss. With tongues. And with passion. And with love.
It got the biggest round of applause ever.
They thought we were acting.
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