How I Got Carter

Chapter 7

By Roe St. Alee


Ten seconds ago, I was on my way out the door. I was going to hop on my bike, pedal hard for about fifteen minutes, and make it home in time to help my mom finish getting dinner ready. Then I was going to do a little bit of homework, watch some TV, and get to sleep early. I have a long day of school tomorrow followed by soccer practice, so I would need a good night’s rest.

That’s it. An uneventful evening, just like any other.

Five seconds ago, however, the night took an unexpected turn.

Instead of waving goodbye and seeing me out the door, Sam, my new friend from school, dropped to his knees, pulled my shorts halfway down my thighs, and started sucking my dick.

Who would have seen that coming?

Once I get over my complete and utter surprise, my first blowjob is almost everything I imagined it would be. Sam knows what he’s doing, there’s no question about that. He starts slow and easy, stroking my rapidly hardening member with one hand while he licks slowly from the base all the way to the tip. When he hits the head, it’s like a little jolt of electricity shoots through my body. This already feels great, and we’ve hardly even started.

Once I’m fully hard, he slowly but surely starts taking me into his mouth, little bits at a time, until he’s worked his way down about half of my six inches. It’s warm and wet and feels something like heaven. He swirls his tongue around a few times, which is another new and fantastic feeling. Then he starts moving up and down, slowly at first, but then at a steady rhythm. I knew getting head would feel good, but this beats jacking off by a long shot.

Now, if you remember, I did say that it was ALMOST everything I imagined it would be. The missing ingredient, of course, is Carter.

Some part of me - probably the delusional part - always imagined that we would share our first experiences together, including this. I know it’s far fetched, bordering on the impossible, but on the extremely small chance that anything ever happened between us, I wanted Carter to give me my first blowjob.

You can’t have everything you want, I guess.

I have to start somewhere, and Sam’s mouth is not a bad place to do it. Plus, Carter said that he had gotten a blowjob before, so this is only fair, right?

Within a few minutes, Sam has me right on the edge. Between his skill and my inexperience, I’m not surprised I don’t last long, but it doesn’t stop me from trying as hard as I can to hold back and prolong things. The longer it goes, the better it feels, and I know my climax is building slowly but surely, no matter what I do.

Suddenly, Sam pushes forward hard, burying all six inches of me deep into his mouth. I can feel his nose tickling my pubic hair, and my cock feels better than it ever has in my life. It’s only a matter of seconds before I cum, shooting my load into the back of his throat. A shudder rips through my body and I gasp aloud as he pulls off.

Hot damn. That was amazing.

After giving my half hardon a quick once over with his tongue to clean it up, Sam stands back up in front of me and licks his lips.

“I couldn’t bear to see you like that,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “You’re so frustrated and pent up with all your feelings.” He shakes his head and looks at me with understanding. “Straight boys. They’ll kill ya.”

He smiles in a way that is surprisingly not lustful, considering what he just did. If I had to describe it, I’d say it looks friendly more than anything.


I’m still reeling from the sensory assault of my first blowjob. It’s hard to put thoughts together, much less words. I don’t know what to think, and I’m not sure what conversation we need to have, if any. The conflicting feelings and questions are getting completely lost in the afterglow of my orgasm, and that throws any chance of being articulate clear out the window. I think I might need to lie down.

Sam just laughs.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, punching me playfully in the arm. “If you want to talk about it later or whatever, we can, but it’s no big deal. I’m just trying to help you get out of your shell a little bit. Now go home before your mom starts worrying about you.”

“Yeah,” I finally manage to stammer, “Ok. Uh… I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.”

Sam laughs again as I step out the door and towards my bike. I hop on and head in what I hope is the direction of my house.

My ride home is a vortex of conflicting ideas, feelings, and emotions. The twenty or so minutes in the cool, fall air helps me wrap my brain around everything that’s happened in the last few hours.

I mean, it was an awesome day, there’s no denying that. Our shootout in the backyard was a ton of fun, and I learned a lot about archery. That’s a good thing. It was one of the first times Carter and I have hung out outside of school or big social functions, and that’s a good thing too. Talking to Sam and learning more about him was eye opening and a little bit shocking, but it was nice to know more about where he’s coming from. And the cherry on top was my first blowjob.

But even if all those things fall into the general category of “good,” I’m not sure what to make of it all.

Hanging out with Carter was fun, and I feel like this could be the first of many times we do something together. My massive puppy dog crush aside, I had a great time with him today on a platonic level as well. He’s so good natured and fun to be around. So how does that aspect of our relationship - a budding friendship - tie into all the intense romantic feelings I have towards him? Should I settle for one and give up the other? Or is it possible to pursue both?

And then there’s Sam. With him, it almost feels like the exact opposite. Here’s a guy I see as a friend, or even a mentor in a way, but there’s suddenly a new dimension to our relationship that I’m not sure I can ignore. I think Sam’s a good kid, and I’d love to do more stuff together, like hanging out, shooting, or playing video games. He’s been out of the closet for a while, and I’m sure he can teach me a lot about coming out publicly and existing as a gay kid in high school.

But then he gave me head.

I can’t just think about Sam as that friend and possible confidant. Instead, I suddenly find myself thinking about how it felt when he deep throated me, or how he licked his lips when he was done. What if he tries something again, or expects me to do more? What if he has feelings for me, and was just trying to be coy about it when I left? What if I have feelings for him?

I don’t. I don’t see Sam as anything but a friend. At least I don’t think I do.

But if he has a lot to teach me about being gay, why couldn’t he also teach me about… other stuff? If that resource is there for me, why shouldn’t I tap into it? It might make me more confident, and that could lead to me being more assertive with Carter, or even with somebody else. If I haven’t tried anything at all, how do I know what I want?

Suddenly I snap out of my stupor and realize I biked past the turn to get to my house. As I wheel my bike around in the street to head back, I start laughing to myself. It starts as just a little smile, but by the time I get to my driveway, I’m having a full on chuckle.

It’s funny, because this is exactly what I always do. I think and think and think. I think about everything. Every aspect of every situation, and every possibility. I think about what labels to put on what people and how that impacts all my other thoughts, feelings, and relationships. And then after that, I start the whole process over until I’m looping around in endless cycles of questions, maybes, and what-ifs.

Round and round it goes, until I can get over myself and take a step forward. It’s exactly how it went down when I first figured out that I was gay. A whole lot of build up inside my head that didn’t do anything but make me feel like crap.

Katy was the first person I came out to, and I wasn’t worried about coming out to her for a second. By the time I had searched my soul long enough to know that I liked boys and not girls, telling Katy was a snap. She’s my best friend, and has been for a long time. I knew that she would support me no matter what, and I was absolutely right. Still, it was an important moment for me, because I needed her on my side for what I was going to do next: Coming out to my family.

I knew it was going to be hard, but I knew all along I had to do it. Especially since my parents split, my mom has been one of the most important people in my life. I depend on her for everything a kid could ever need from his parents, and she depends on me for a lot of things that, in a perfect world, she would have relied on my dad.

I think most parents understand this, but it took me a while to get it. The more my mom needed me, the more I needed her, and vice versa. In the end, I realized how vital it was for me that my mom knew the truth. If I was ever going to have a hope of coming out and facing the world as a gay man, I needed my mom to be in my corner.

But it was hard, and even with Katy’s encouragement, I hid it for months. Keeping a secret from my mom was like drinking a big cup of poison every morning for breakfast. I found myself randomly telling little lies and hiding other, less important things from her, which only made me feel even worse. If I couldn’t be honest with her, I felt like I wasn’t being honest with myself. It had to be all or nothing.

One night, the pressure got so bad that I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned in my bed for hours, alternating between punching my pillow and crying into it. I was angry at myself for keeping secrets, and frustrated with my weakness. It was too hard to tell my mom the truth, and the fear of losing her was somehow even more sad and oppressive than all the bad things I was feeling for keeping it in.

Finally, at exactly 3:14 in the morning, I got out of bed and walked across our house. It felt like the longest walk I’ve ever taken, even though it was probably only fifty feet. I had to force my legs to take every step, because as much as I wanted it all to be over one way or another, it still felt easier to get back into bed and feel miserable for the rest of my life.

I remember pushing the door to her bedroom open and walking to the foot of her bed. There was enough light coming through the window that I could see the blankets moving with her breath. I don’t know how long I stood there watching her, but finally, with a herculean effort of will, I called her name.


I barely even whispered it - it was all I could muster. Even so, I heard the blankets rustle and move as she woke up.

“Hmm?” she responded, still half asleep.

“Mom, it’s me,” I said. It’s funny to think about it now, but I remember wanting to be absolutely sure that she knew it was me before I went on.

“Jackson,” she replied groggily, but more awake than before.

“Mom,” I said again, trying not to break down and start crying again, “I have to tell you something.”

She stirred a little, and I could tell she opened her eyes.

“I… I’m…”

Even though I had known I was gay for a while, this was the moment when it became real. Sure, I had told Katy about it, but if three weeks from now I changed my mind and took it all back, she wouldn’t bat an eye. This was the moment from which there would be no return, and the two words I needed to say would change my life forever.

“I’m gay.”

The words rang in my ears for what seemed like an eternity as I waited for whatever would come next. I had jumped off the high dive into the deep end, and now I was in slow motion, free falling until I either hit water or the bottom of an empty pool.

“Oh,” she said. “Ok.”

Her response didn’t tell me much, but at least I knew she had heard the message and was processing it. What would she do? What would she say? Would she yell at me or tell me to knock it off? Would she cry? Months of confusion and frustration all boiled down to what she decided to do next.

“Is that all?”

What?! Is that ALL?! It was the single most life-altering truth I’ve ever held, and my mother was the single most important person in the world to me. How could she hear something so incredibly earth shattering and dismiss it with only…

“Jackson, it’s late,” she said, interrupting my catastrophization. “Why don’t you come give me a hug, and then get to bed?” she suggested. “You have school tomorrow.”

School? Bed? Hugs? This is life and death stuff I’m trying to talk about, and all my mom can think about is how well rested I am for school tomorrow.

And then, as I walked over to her to give her that hug she asked for, it all made sense. I just spilled my guts to my mom, and told her the biggest secret I’ve ever kept. For her, however, she was still just being my mom, worried that I wouldn’t be able to focus in class because I wasted the whole night trying to tell her that I was gay. She hugged me hard before she sent me off to bed, and she told me that she loved me.

She didn’t tell me that it was ok for me to be anything I wanted to be, and she didn’t tell me that she accepted my newfound sexuality and lifestyle. She didn’t have to. Five seconds before I came out to her I was her eldest son, Jackson, whom she loves very much. Five seconds after, it was the same.

The months of planning, worrying, and wondering - it was a complete waste of my time and energy. In the end, my mother didn’t care one way or the other, and even if she had, I still would have needed to walk back to my room, lie down in my bed, and go to sleep. I can’t change the way I am, and my mom knew that even better than I did.

And that’s why I’m laughing when I open the door and step into the house. Because I should have learned this lesson a long time ago. Thinking in circles is exactly what it sounds like. It never ends, and you never get anywhere. Once you’ve started, you’ll never stop unless you break the cycle, and the only way to break the cycle of thought, is with action. Bold, confident action.

“What’s so funny?”

My mom is standing in the hallway with an apron on, looking at me with her arms akimbo. She has a little twinkle in her eye, which is one of my favorite looks. She gets it when she’s happy, or even if the twins or I are happy. It’s like she knows there’s a good time happening somewhere inside of me, and she wants in on it.

“I’m just thinking,” I respond. I already know where this is going, and it’s only making me laugh more.

“What about?” she asks.

“Boys!” I tell her as obnoxiously as possible.

She rolls her eyes, now having her own little laugh, and walks back toward the kitchen.

Bold action. I like the sound of that.

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