What a night it's been so far. It's an hour or two after our game ended, and I'm sitting by the fire with ten or so people, nursing a beer, and listening to Robert tell some story about how he almost had a threesome with two smoking hot girls from the camp he works at during the first half of the summer.
I'm only half listening, partially because I would guess that something like eighty percent of the tale is fabricated, but mostly because I'm thinking. What am I thinking about? I'm thinking about Carter.
I still can't believe what happened a few hours ago: I kissed Carter Mulkins.
It felt so good. At the time, I was nervous and excited beyond anything I've ever felt, but now I've sobered up a bit and had some time to process. It was a game, and I'm sure Carter didn't feel it like I did, but by God I kissed the boy. And that's good enough for now.
I turn my focus outward as Robert's story starts picking up steam. We're just getting to the part where Robert is waking up his cabin of middle school campers at two in the morning to ask if anyone has a condom, when someone pokes me in the back.
“Haven't you dragged me on enough adventures tonight?” I ask, figuring that Katy needs some more wingman help with her boy Jeff.
When I turn around, however, it isn't Katy. It's Carter.
“Hey, Jackson, can I talk to you?” Carter looks back and forth a few times like he's looking for someone.
“What's up?” I ask.
“I kinda need your help,” he says.
This is interesting. Carter needs my help. I guess Matt, his usual partner in crime, is indisposed at the moment. Judging by some of the vibes going back and forth between him and Jackie during Spin the Bottle, Matt might be indisposed all night.
Looking at Carter, he suddenly looks like a sixteen year old boy, and not a model from a magazine. It's weird to me sometimes, because even though he is the hottest person ever to set foot on this earth, he's still just a regular dude in my grade. I’m not sure why I’m seeing it now more than usual, but maybe it’s the way he’s asking for my help. It makes him seem so much more normal.
“Anyway,” he continues, “I was wondering if I could maybe sleep in your tent with you.”
The beer in my mouth threatens to leave via a spit take. This is too good to be true. An hour ago I was kissing this boy, and in the foreseeable future we would be sleeping together in a tent. Obviously, I'm all for it.
“Uh...” The words, however, decide not to come out of my mouth, because suddenly I wonder if Carter sleeps naked. Maybe just a pair of boxers, or better yet, briefs. I try to focus, but the image of him sleeping nude or even mostly nude a foot away from me is blocking any useful thoughts that might be trying to transform into words and exit my mouth in an intelligible fashion.
“It's no big deal, don't worry about it.” Carter turns away, with a genuine look of disappointment on his face. What the hell is wrong with me? Get a grip, Jackson!
“Yeah!” I yell, slightly too loud, and a few people turn around to look at us. Robert shakes his head at me disapprovingly for interrupting him before he launches back into his story. I lower my voice so just Carter can hear before I continue. “That's cool if you want to. I'm kind of far into the back woods, but there's plenty of room in my tent.”
“Awesome, thanks,” Carter says, flashing me one of his perfect, heart melting grins.
“When did you want to go?” I ask.
“Actually, now would be really good.” Carter looks around again and leans closer to me. “Trish is trying to make things complicated for me,” he whispers.
Oh, right. That lunatic is probably hiding in a dark shadow somewhere waiting to jump Carter and tear his clothes off. If anybody's doing that, it's going to be me.
“We can go now, just let me grab another drink," I say. I'll need it. Something about the prospect of sleeping a few inches away from this god among men has sobered me up and gotten my blood pumping. Relaxation is key.
“Gotcha covered, my man,” says Carter, pulling a flask-sized bottle of something out of his sleeping bag’s stuff sack. “But I'm serious, dude. Let's get moving before she finds us – we can drink once we get back to your tent.”
Drinking time alone with Carter in the middle of the forest? I don’t even need to tell you that I’m in.
We wander off casually, managing to avoid any unwelcome attention. We get into the woods a bit and walk for a few minutes back to where the tent is. It's a little off the beaten path tucked in behind a few trees. No one else has put up tents in the area, which I’m hoping will come in handy, but at the very least it should give us shelter from the succubus known as Trish.
"This is it," I say, gesturing towards the tent. "Feel free to toss your stuff in there. Uhhh..."
I trail off and frown. To be honest, I'm not sure what to do now. Carter and I never really hang out. We don’t even have a light or anything, besides our phones. We can faintly hear the din of the party and see a little bit of light from the bonfire, but Carter’s made it clear we’re not going back there. Don't get me wrong - I can think of plenty of things to do with Carter in the dark, but I don't think we're quite ready for that.
I forget that I always overthink these things. While I’m debating in my mind, Carter takes a few steps over to a fallen tree and sits down on it. He opens up his flask and holds it toward me. I chuckle a little bit at myself as I grab the bottle and take a swig. Whatever it is, it burns like crazy and almost makes me gag.
"Dude, what is that?" I ask, coughing. My eyes instantly start watering from whatever loathsome concoction I put in my mouth.
Carter laughs and grabs the bottle out of my hands. He takes a drink from it, and even in the low light I can see him grimace.
"It's gin," he replies with a strained voice, "I've got a bottle stashed at home." He passes the bottle back over to me. "It gets easier after you have a few sips."
I sniff the bottle and make a face. It smells like a cross between pine needles and involuntary shudder.
“Sorry, that’s all I have.” I can feel Carter’s sheepish grin more than I can see it in the moonlight.
We trade a couple more drinks and I have a seat on the ground in front of Carter. He made a good point. It does get easier to force it down after a few sips. I start to feel a little warmth flow through my body, and a pleasant tingle in my lips and fingertips. It's doing what it's supposed to.
“Thanks again, Jackson. Trish was getting to be a little too much,” Carter says to me as he gets off the log and sits on the ground next to me.
“I thought she was going to suck your face off when we were playing spin the bottle.”
I knew he wasn't into her, but it's still good to hear him say it, and it can’t hurt to egg him on.
He laughs a little bit. “Yeah, there was plenty of 'face sucking' as it was, right?”
Luckily it's dark and he can't see me blush at that. I decide to change the subject a little bit before I say anything ridiculous.
“Katy and Jeff seemed to be getting along pretty well. She's been gone all summer, but she's not the type to waste any time when she knows what she wants,” I say.
“Yeah, I think those two wandered off somewhere.” Carter takes a drink and hands the bottle back over. “That doesn't bother you at all?” he asks.
Typical. I’m used to it at this point.
“Katy? No, we're just friends.” I can't see so well, but I’m guessing Carter looks incredulous. “And it's not like I could stop her even if I wanted to,” I add.
“Just friends, huh?”
His question hangs in the air, and it's definitely my turn to take a drink. Sometimes I wish I was out with everyone, and people wouldn't have to think it was weird that Katy and I are best friends with no romantic interest in each other.
“What about your girlfriend?” I ask, trying to steer the conversation to something a little bit safer.
Carter leans his head back and sighs.
“That good, huh?” I ask, and I can't help but laugh at how exasperated he sounds. I hold the flask out for him.
He laughs too before reaching over and fishing the flask out of my hands. “Good call on more drinking.” He take a long swig before he continues. “Don't tell anyone this, but there's no way I can do it anymore.”
“Oh.” What are you supposed to say to that? “Uh, sorry to hear that,” I say.
“Don't be,” he says, “She was ok last year during school, but all summer she's been kind of a bummer. I'm just...” He runs his hand through his hair once and thinks. “I dunno. I'm just not feeling it anymore.”
We sit in silence for a little bit and it gives me time to think. What am I doing?
Carter and I are drinking together in the woods and sharing our feelings. We’re bonding with each other and in a few minutes we’re going to be sleeping less than a foot away from each other. For Carter it’s just hanging out with a buddy. But for me it’s torture.
He'll fall asleep just like any other night, but I'll be tossing and turning, sick with the thought of his untouchable closeness. He's straight, as evidenced by his girlfriend, and I'm in love with him. Why do people in the friend zone enjoy suffering so much?
The kiss we shared about an hour ago is not helping me feel any less weird about this. On one hand, it was just part of a game. But on the other hand, for me, that was winning the game. I'll never forget that kiss, and he'll probably never give it another thought.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks..
“I'm just thinking about, relationships.” It's true, to an extent.
“What about them?” he asks. I suddenly feel like Carter is sitting very close to me.
“I guess I'm just thinking about how they don't ever work. Even if you're a hundred percent sure of how you feel about someone, they can feel totally different.”
Carter chuckles. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
“I dunno, man.” I sigh. “Sometimes nothing in the world can change how you feel, but then nothing can change how they feel either.”
Carter takes this in for a second. I tried to tell him the truth, but I hope I was general enough.
“It's not fair,” he says, nodding his head slowly in understanding. “For somebody in the equation, it's just not fair.”
In this moment, more than any other this whole night, I want to tell him how I feel.
But I can't.
It's a plain and simple fact, as sure as the sun rises and sets: I can't. So I tell him the next best thing.
Carter laughs his best laugh. It's sounds so real and inviting. “Me too,” he admits. “Are you ready for bed? We should probably do that before I drink the rest of this gin.”
He hands it back and I grimace. There's still a bunch left in that little flask.
“Yeah,” I agree, excited for the chance to at least stop drinking gin. “I'm about ready to call it a night.”
It’s not entirely true. I could be convinced to stay up for a little making out or cuddling, but how do you bring that up?
“Plus, I've gotta piss like a race horse,” Carter adds.
“Good call, dude.”
We stagger to our feet and stumble a few steps into the woods to pee. Surprisingly, Carter stands right next to me and makes no move to cover himself as he does it. It's not really a sexual thing for me, but I weirdly like the feeling of closeness. If you'll piss standing next to a dude, you must be pretty ok with him.
It's too dark to make out any real details, but I can still see the silhouette of his cock in his hand as he's holding it. I try, with some amount of success, to put my mind back to the task at hand, and before too long a nice, alcohol fueled stream of piss is coming out.
Carter's head is tilted all the way back and he lets out a long sigh. With his eyes cast upward, I sneak another long glance at his cock as he finishes. I shake mine out a couple times and decide to pack it up before I get too hard. I'm definitely growing, but it's still soft enough that I can pack it away into my jeans without being too obvious. Carter takes a little bit longer to finish, and I see him squeeze and shake the last few drops out as I turn around to head back towards the tent.
I turn around at the sound of Carter's exclamation. He still has his back to me, but I can tell he’s looking down. Not at his crotch necessarily, but maybe at his pants?
"What's wrong?" I ask.
He pulls out his cell phone and shines the light down on his left pant leg. As he turns around, I can make out a dark spot on the left leg of his jeans. I take a few steps toward him, but he takes a step back and turns away from me a little bit.
"I think there was like, a leaf or something in the way." He sounds embarrassed, maybe the first time I’ve ever heard that in his voice. "Sorry, I'm just…”
I step closer to him and laugh. "Dude, you don't have to apologize. You didn't piss all over my leg."
I can barely make out his signature sheepish grin in the moonlight.
“Yeah,” he says, laughing, “at least I didn’t do that.”
“Plus, I think every dude in the world has pissed on himself and random inanimate objects without meaning to at some point.” It’s true for me at least. “Just take them off before you get in the tent, ok?”
He sounds like he's back to normal as we stumble towards the tent. The movement makes me realize how drunk I am. Carter polished off even more of the gin than I did, so he’s really got to be feeling it.
I'm about to open the tent and climb in when Carter stops me.
“Uh, Jackson,” he says, “I think I need your help.”
I turn around to see Carter leaning against a tree for support and fumbling around with his belt. He eventually gives up, looks up at me, and shrugs.
I'm glad it's dark, because the look on my face must be a sight to see.
“What?” I ask. Every fiber of my being wants to help Carter get undressed, but I'm still hesitating, just in case I'm not understanding what he wants.
“My pants, dude. Help me get them off,” he says. “It's like, this belt – you have to push and pull the two parts and then…” He shrugs again. “I seriously cannot do this right now.” He sounds so exasperated and he fumbles with the clasp, I'm not sure whether to laugh or get a boner.
I settle on a strange combination of the two and walk over to where he's standing. Here goes nothing!
I'm not really sure where to start, but Carter grabs my wrists and pulls my hands down past his waist. My eyes are wide with shock as he pulls my hands against his thighs and guides them upwards over his legs, slowly sliding up to to his waist. I hook my fingertips inside the waistband of his jeans and he exhales as I do it, ever so slightly.
With the backs of my fingers I can just feel his warm stomach above his underwear. Below that, my fingertips rest at his hip between his pants and underwear. I can’t believe this is happening.
I look at Carter and his lips are parted ever so slightly. I could be imagining it, but his breathing seems a little heavier than it was before. He looks into my eyes and nods ever so slightly.
I drop to my knees as I start undoing his belt. He wasn't kidding: This thing is complicated as shit. I push and pull and twist and squeeze in various combinations until I'm able to pull the end though the buckle.
His hands are still resting on my arms, and they tighten slightly as I start undoing the button of his jeans. He didn't explicitly ask me to, but I'll be damned if I'm backing out now.
I unzip his fly, very aware that my fingers are skimming just millimeters from his crotch. The tiniest, faintest noise comes from the back of Carter's throat.
If he liking this? I almost think he is, although it's hard to imagine he's enjoying this moment even one tenth as much as I am.
Slowly I start to pull down his pants. My eyes are level with his package, and I'm not even feeling the alcohol anymore; I'm straight up drunk on sexual anticipation. I've dreamed about this moment a hundred times, and here I am, my face only a handspan away from the glory of Carter's goods. Two hours ago we were kissing, and now I'm taking off his pants.
I pull apart his fly and pull his jeans down a few inches, revealing the bulge in his underwear as I do. My own cock pushes hard against my own jeans as I see it: Carter is getting hard.
I breath in the intoxicating boy musk as I pull his pants down to his knees and put my face as close to him as I dare. He's wearing tight, dark briefs, and his arousal is plain to see in the way his member is pressed hard against the fabric of his underwear. Even in the dim light I can make out the faint outline of his cockhead, pointing straight down.
I kneel there for what feels like an hour staring at that beautiful boy meat. It might be the gin talking, but how easy would it be to pull his underwear down, release his cock, and put my mouth on it? I'm almost positive he wants it. Hell, it was his suggestion to have me take off his pants, or at least his belt, and there's no question that he's feeling drunk and horny right now. My heart and my dick both feel like they're about to explode. It's right here, staring me in the face, and I need to take it or leave it.
Before I can decide what to do, I notice that Carter is moving around, trying to squirm his legs the rest of the way out of his pants. I kind of lost track of the task at hand, and drunk Carter is trying to do things himself, which does not seem advisable.
He lifts up his right leg to free it, but gets it caught in his jeans. I see it all happening but can't do anything to stop it; Carter pitches slowly but surely forward, and falls down in my direction with his pants tangled up around his ankles.
The dust settles, leaving Carter directly on top of me, his face just inches from mine. I can feel his breath on my lips, and even after the sudden impact it's making me horny as hell. I expect him to get up and get off, but he just sits there, pinning me down beneath his body.
“Are you ok?” he asks me in a whisper.
I'm pretty much beyond words at this point, but I manage to get out an answer.
“Yeah, I'm fine,” I say. “You?”
“That depends, I guess,” he says
His eyes are blazing with a look I've never quite seen before. I think I like it.
“On what?” I ask, trying to goad him into making a move. I'm going to see where this is going, or die trying.
Instead of answering, he leans down and kisses me full on the lips. After about five seconds he pulls away and looks down at me, gauging my reaction. Spin the bottle was one thing, but I just had my face about three inches from Carter's semi-hard dick after taking off his pants for him. I'm way beyond giving a shit about this going too far.
I move my head up to meet his lips and return his embrace. God, I'm in heaven. I force my tongue into his mouth and he gives back as good as he gets, intertwining his tongue with mine, back and forth between our mouths. Hot breath, saliva, and light moans become my world for the next few minutes.
While we kiss, Carter grinds his hips against mine, and I can feel his hard manhood pressing into my own. He reaches down to my waist and slides his hands into my shirt and up my torso, running his hands up and down my chest and stomach as we kiss. I reach out to his body and do the same for a minute, before grabbing the bottom hem of his t-shirt and pulling it over his head.
We keep making out for a minute or so, and I feel his hands moving slowly but surely down my chest, over my stomach, and towards my waist. His fingers just reach the waistband of my jeans when he suddenly stops.
I hear footsteps in the woods. Someone's coming toward us.
In my unbelievable horniness, I had completely forgotten about the fact that we are laying here making out exposed in the moonlight for anyone to see. I hold my breath as the footsteps get closer and I start to hear some voices. Carter's still laying directly on top of me, so I guess the plan is to just hold still and hope no one sees us. As they get closer I can make out a guy's voice, whispering.
“I don't think tents just get up and walk away,” he says.
“I know it's somewhere around here. Maybe if you brought a flashlight,” a girl responds.
“Is this it?” They're only about ten feet away now and it sounds like they're standing next to my tent.
“No, my tent is green,” the girl says. “I think.”
“Ugh, we don't even know what it looks like... Let's try looking closer to the house,” he says. “I don't think you walked all-”
He stops short in the middle of his sentence.
He sees us. We are so fucked.
If everyone finds out I'm gay, it won't be easy, but it was probably just a matter of time. But Carter? I can't even imagine. I close my eyes and pray, waiting for them to do something.
Suddenly, I hear the girl giggling, and the guy shushes her.
“I guess that's one option if you can't find your tent,” he says, snickering under his breath. They tiptoe away towards the house, chuckling quietly as they go.
As soon as their footsteps fade, I breath again. I can't believe how lucky we are. They couldn't see very well, and since my body was pinned underneath Carter's, they must have assumed I was a girl.
My heart rate is returning to normal, and I still have a drunk, mostly naked Carter Mulkins to deal with. As much as I'd like to pick up exactly where we left off – we were making out and I believe Carter was about to remove my pants, if anyone has forgotten – I think it would be best if we moved it into the tent.
“We lucked out, dude,” I whisper in Carter's ear. “Let's get in the tent, ok?”
No response. I turn my ear up to his face and listen. His breathing sounds awfully deep and regular.
Are you kidding me?
He’s sleeping like a baby. To his credit, he was doing a great job of holding still.
“Carter,” I try again, shaking him a little bit. Nothing. He's totally passed out.
I lie back down and sigh. So close. It was happening. Just like my fantasies, it was happening. Now I'm stuck sexless, plus I have to figure out how to drag Carter into the tent.
I roll Carter's body off of mine and get up, looking down as him. His flawless body, illuminated faintly by the moon, is like some sort of statue, perfect in every way from head to toe. And tonight, he was (almost) mine.
I bend to half carry half drag him over to the tent, and I can't help but smile. It could have gone better, sure. But I had my mouth on those lips, my hands on that body, and those hands – as far as I know – reaching towards that which resides below my waist.
It’s confusing, exciting, wonderful, and frightening. It was one hell of a night.Previous Chapter Next Chapter