what-its-like-to-be-loved-1

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Subject: What it’s Like to Be Loved 1 Disclaimer: this is a fictional story about sexual relationships between adults and minors. If you cannot read that type of thing, please don’t. This story is sort of the opposite of “What I Love About Tristan” (https://www.//gay/adult-youth/what-i-love-about-tristan), told from the point of view of a boy in a sexual relationship with a man. This story comes much closer to experiences from my own life than any of my other stories. I’ve done my best to try to tell this from a young person’s perspective, and have tried to simplify the language. Hopefully that’s more realistic and not distracting. This is a milder story, sex-wise, than I usually write. It will have more sex as it goes along, but it will always be the relationship first. If you want to talk about anything at all, please write to me ail, I love getting emails from readers. I would especially appreciate hearing any feedback specific to whether the story is good enough to post the remaining 3 chapters. Last, please consider donating to Nifty: fty Thanks, Tex What it’s Like to be Loved 1 (m/b(11), mast) by Tex Colorado When I’m wrapped in Mark’s arms, his body pressed to mine, his slow breathing heavy, tickling the back of my neck as he sleeps, it’s almost impossible for me to remember a time when I wasn’t loved. Yes, we had just, “done it,” and it wasn’t the first time, but it’s so much more than that. That’s why I thought that it was important for people to understand how much better my life is now that I’m loved. We first met at baseball practice. I was eleven, Mark was thirty-five, really old, but fit and hot. Of course, I didn’t know to use that word yet. For me, it was just a feeling of wanting to be near him, wanting his attention, and observing him closely when he didn’t give it. Now it’s obvious that it was just a basic attraction to him, but I never knew that was something that was real or possible. At school we already had girlfriends, whatever that means in sixth grade, and that was the life that I knew. Mark changed that. He was the brother of our coach, and he’d come to live with them while he was getting a divorce. The coach was my friend Alex’s dad, so Mark was also his uncle. While he was living with them, “trying to pick up the pieces,” he helped out where he could, and that meant that he always came to practice to work individually with the kids who needed extra attention. I fell into that category. While the other guys’ dads would play catch and teach them at home, my dad was a drunk who played catch with me a total of one time in my life. And that time had only been in response to some sudden idea that he was “supposed” to play catch with his son, so he insisted that we head outside right then. It was too dark when he stumbled out to the garage to grab the ball, insisting that I come with, the whole thing predictably falling into chaos, with me helping him much more than him teaching me anything. Unfortunately, this was typical. Don’t get me wrong, I love my dad. And when he’s sober he’s great, but that’s not very often, and the rest of the time he’s just sad and mostly not there. It’s hard to feel loved when you’re the one taking care of your parent. Where was my mom? Being a complete bitch. Was she mean because he drank, or did he drink because she was mean? To me, I thought that she was the problem. She sure was for me. If she did anything for me, she complained about it. I learned a long time ago to just let her be and take care of myself. The less that she remembered that she had a kid, the better. That’s why baseball was one of the few activities that I could join. No one was ever able to take me to anything else, but I could ride my bike to practice. Alex’s dad had helped too, getting the forms to my dad for him to sign me up without having to figure anything out. I spent a lot of time with Alex at his house, and his dad always tried to look out for me, but they had three kids, so he was a little busy a lot of the time. It was funny to go to practice and call him “coach” when he’d been Mr. Jordan my whole life. I was just excited to finally participate in something. Really fast we figured out that I wasn’t keeping up at practice. I could run as well as anybody, but hitting, catching and throwing I sucked at. So Mark gave me a smile when he saw me struggling and said, “Why don’t I work with Tim?” to Mr Jordan. “That’s great, thanks Mark,” he told him, then turned to me. “Hey, Timmy, Mr Mark will help you learn some of the basics.” I was embarrassed that everyone else already knew what they were doing, even though they all knew why and were cool about it. But even the knowing why made me feel sad. Mark was totally great, though. He put is arm across my shoulder and started to talk to me about throwing as we walked away from the others, and I immediately felt better and more comfortable. His instruction really helped me. I’m good at sports, I just hadn’t ever done this, so even after that first practice I was tons better. “Maybe you can play catch with your dad,” Mark suggested after we returned to the group. I could see him looking at someone behind me, and I knew if I looked, Mr Jordan would be waving, trying to say, “Don’t ask, I’ll explain later.” I’d seen that look so many times in my town, it didn’t even bother me anymore. “Hey,” he started again, “why don’t you come over after school and we can practice?” he asked me. “Sure!” I answered excitedly, “that’d be awesome!” Alex was smiling at me, he was always happy when I came over, so I knew that he liked the idea. I rode home like I was on a cloud, and was almost skipping when I went inside. The house was empty, no note or anything, not that it was unusual. They most likely didn’t remember practice and assumed that I was upstairs when they left for wherever, most likely not together. I put in a frozen pizza, the same one that I had at least three nights a week, but today it tasted much better as I thought about going to Alex’s house tomorrow to play baseball with Mr. Mark. I made sure to be locked away in my room before I heard my dad stumble in and flop down in “his” chair in front of the tv. I was sound asleep before my mom got home, dreaming about feeling my dad’s karabük escort arms hugging me from behind as I looked out at the baseball diamond. School the next day dragged and dragged. Afterwards I met Alex by the bike rack and we headed to his house. “Mark said that he’d take you to the field so that you guys can practice,” he told me, “I’ve got to go to hockey practice, but I’ll go if you do it again.” For some reason it didn’t bother me that it was just Mark and me, it actually seemed nice to have all of his attention. When we arrived at the house, Mark was ready and waiting for us with his glove, a bat and a ball. “Let’s go, buddy,” he said happily, and actually ruffled my hair. It should have bugged me, but instead it just made me smile and get a warm feeling. Alex’s house was even closer to the fields than mine, so we just walked over. When we arrived, we first worked on throwing and catching, then moved on to more demanding fielding like ground balls and pop-ups. He was an amazing teacher, always encouraging and gently fixing my screw-ups. We played for about an hour, and I got about 5 times better at everything. The other guys were gonna be shocked at how much better I’d gotten. Mark was packing things into a bag that he brought and I turned around and looked at the field. I realized that this was where I was looking in my dream last night and it made me gasp. “You ok?” he asked me. “Yeah, um, I feel like I dreamed this last night,” I explained. “You dreamed about playing baseball?” he asked. “It was this,” I tried to explain, “looking at the field, just like this.” Then I thought for a second, and remembered the other part, “And someone was giving me a hug,” I told him before I even thought about what I’d said. Then I realized that I had imagined that it was my dad, and it hit me: that’s never gonna happen. Before I knew it, I felt the first tear drop down my face, and in seconds I was in full-on, little kid cry. My vision was blurry through the tears, I didn’t even know why I was so sad, nothing new had happened, my parents were the same shitheads. I guess it was the realization that it was never gonna change, and I just stood there, trying to breath but taking embarrassing gulps of air. I felt like such a stupid kid. Then I felt his touch. It wasn’t tentative, before I had time to understand what was going on I was completely wrapped in his arms. He was saying, “It’s ok, buddy, it’s ok, it’s gonna be ok,” over and over, even saying, “shh, shh,” quietly a few times. I was stunned for a second, then I got mad and pushed his arms away. Turning around to face him, I screamed, “It won’t be ok! You don’t know anything!” crying again. Mark was thrown off and looked unsure for a second, then he stepped closer and put his arms around me again. I pushed against his stomach, trying to get away, but he held me tight. I didn’t have any more energy to fight him, and finally relented and put my head on his chest and started bawling. Mark didn’t say anything for a long time, just rubbed my back and held me. After a long time, I ran out of tears, and finally looked up at Mark. His eyes were red, and I realized that it may have made him cry too, “Did I make you mad?” I asked him. I didn’t want to hurt the only adult who paid attention to me. He laughed, “Mad? Are you kidding?” he asked, “It just hurts that you’re so upset,” he told me. “I guess that I just realized that this is as good as it gets,” I explained, “I mean with my parents,” I clarified. “They’re not that interested in me.” Mark stooped down a little so that we were closer in height, then sought out my eyes to make his point, “I’m not gonna promise something will change that I don’t know anything about,” he said, “but I’m interested in you, and I’ll do everything that I can to make you feel better.” I knew that he meant it, and I actually smiled. When he said it, I felt warm inside, and I just said, “Thanks. I’m feeling a little better already.” Mark smiled at me, then pulled me back to him in a hug. Letting myself relax into him, the warm feeling ran through me again, and I sunk into his chest and sighed as he squeezed me tighter. My dad sometimes hugs me if he’s sober and remembers that he’s a dad. But it had been a long, long time, and Mark’s hug felt really good to me. The more that I sunk in, the tighter he held me, and I got that great feeling where you don’t want something to ever end. We were like that for a long time, luckily no one was around, I’m sure that it looked really weird, then Mark finally said, “When do you have to be home for dinner?” I laughed, “Whenever I feel like microwaving a hotdog,” I answered. “Oh,” he said, “I wasn’t really thinking.” Then he brightened up, “How `bout we run to the Village Inn and grab a bite?” That was the only restaurant that was actually in our little town. I never got to eat there, so I was excited. “Yeah!” I responded, “that’d be great!” Mark hung his arm around my shoulder like yesterday and we walked to the car. The restaurant wasn’t busy, but we took our time, talking a lot while we sipped on our Coke’s, so much that the waitress came by three times to see if we were ready. Since I don’t get the best food at home, I ordered a ton to eat, happy to have someone else cook it for me for the first time in a long time. Mark had such a happy look on his face as I devoured a cheeseburger and double order of cheese fries. He looked so goofy that I finally said, “What?” “Nothing,” he answered, “it just makes me happy to see you happy. After how you were feeling before.” Reminding me of melting down put a little damper on things for a second and I know that it probably showed on my face, “It’s nice to have someone be nice to me,” I offered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” he said with concern, “hey, can I tell you something that you might think is strange?” Uh oh, I thought, where was this going? “Sure,” I said as cheerily as possible. “I always wanted to have kids, and my wife didn’t,” he started, “and getting to spend this little bit of time with you, and getting to teach you some things, it makes me feel like a dad,” he paused for a second then continued, “and I guess…I guess that I really needed karaman escort something to feel good about right now. So thanks, kiddo,” he finished. That great warm feeling came over me again and a realization; if it was Mark holding me at the diamond, that was ok, even nice, because he actually gave a shit. “Sure,” I said happily, “I’m so glad that you’re helping me, I felt kind of stupid not knowing how to play,” I explained. Mark smiled back at me and we focused on our food. Finally a thought occurred to me, “So if you wanted to have kids, is that why you’re divorced?” Mark looked surprised, but said, “That and a million other things.” “Like what?” I asked him. He sat and looked like he was thinking about it, but all that he came up with was, “We just fought all of the time, we were different people than before. It happens.” “My parents fight, but it’s `cause my dad drinks too much,” I told him quietly, “plus my mom’s super mad all of the time.” “My wife was mad a lot too,” he said, “but there’s two sides to a story, so I’m not going to throw her under the bus.” I’d never heard that expression before, and actually thought that he meant that he had decided not to kill her. “That’s good,” I said with a wrinkled brow, “then you’d go to jail.” Mark actually spit some of his coke out when he laughed, “It’s just an expression,” he told me, “it means that I’m not going to blame everything on her when she’s not able to defend herself.” “Ohh,” I said, still thinking that it was a weird thing to say. “Well, it’s kind of good for me that you got divorced, because, you know, you’re here to help me.” A big smile came across his face, “I agree, buddy, maybe it was meant to be,” he said with a chuckle, “anyway, I’m glad that I got to meet you,” he told me. We had a great time, talking away while we ate until it was time to go. I explained that I didn’t have to be home at any particular time, and Mark could tell that I was really sad to say goodbye for the night. “Could you stay with us?” he asked out of nowhere, “Say that you’re sleeping over at Alex’s?” I thought about it, and was sure that no one at my house would care, “I know that Alex would be happy, and I can explain it to Mr. Jordan,” he said. So I called home, but got the voicemail. I explained what I was doing, and that I’d go to school from Alex’s since I had my backpack and he could lend me some clothes. When we got back to the house, Alex was really excited that I’d come home with Mark and he and I sat in the family room watching TV while Mark talked to Mr Jordan in the kitchen. I could hear the words that adults always whispered around me, thinking that I was deaf: neglect, abusive, that kind of thing. “He’s always welcome here,” I heard Alex’s dad say, and even thought that I may have heard a, “great kid,” somewhere in there, which gave me a good feeling that I didn’t get very often. When Mark walked out of the kitchen and through the family room, he looked at me and winked while he gave me a confident thumbs-up, “You’re all set kiddo,” he told me, “you can stay over anytime.” And that was how it came about that I started to spend almost every day and night at their house. My parents quickly got used to me being gone, so I didn’t even bother telling them what I was doing each day. Sometimes I didn’t really care if I ever saw them again, and wondered if they felt any differently. I loved being at the Jordan’s house, everyone was so nice, the adults helped us with homework, tucked us in, and even gave Alex a kiss goodnight and Mark would ruffle my hair. It went on like this for awhile, life slowly improving for me. It was also easy for Mark and I to be a pair, because both of us had just dropped in on the Jordan’s, so we tried to let them be a family a little bit. Sometimes they would go out and it was just Mark and I, which didn’t bother me at all. It was one of those times that we were alone when things changed between us. Well, maybe they didn’t change, but we definitely realized some things that were always there. It started on the couch in the family room where we were watching tv. Mark let me watch a scaryish pg-13 rated movie, and I was jumping and grabbing onto him with each scare. Knowing what I know now, I wonder if he planned it that way, but I really don’t think so, and if he did, that’s cool too; it’s nice to be wanted. By the time that it was over I had spent a half hour practically sitting on Mark I was so close to him. We stayed like that through the credits, and sitting there, his arm draped over me like he had done so many times before, I felt so safe, warm, and something that I almost never felt; happy. I couldn’t remember a time in my life that I felt happy, and it made me start to get tears in my eyes. I tried hard to hide it, but Mark heard me sniffling and said, “What’s wrong, buddy, was the movie that scary?” Wiping my nose with my hand, I said, “No, that’s not it,” and then I told him, “I was just thinking how happy that you’ve made me, and I’ve never been happy before.” I tried to look up, but I just lost it, the tears falling as I turned toward him and buried my head into the crook of his arm. Somehow I turned more and climbed up onto Mark’s lap facing him. I didn’t remember doing it, but that’s where I was, and it felt perfect. I also knew that I wouldn’t have done it if anyone else was there, but it was my Mark, and I could do anything. Which meant burying my head in his chest and bawling, Mark rubbing my back and saying, “Shh, shh, baby, it’s ok. I’m here, baby,” and I felt so good, and I knew that Mark didn’t understand why I was crying. I was worried that he wouldn’t know it was because I was so happy, that it was because I loved him. Then that last thought banged around in my head, the first time that it had ever occurred to me, and I couldn’t stop myself. “I love you, Mark,” I told him between sniffles. “Oh, Timmy,” he said, his voice told me that he was smiling even though I still had my head in his sweater-covered chest, “I love you so much, kiddo,” he responded and my heart exploded, then he doubled down, “you’re the most important thing in the world to me.” At that moment I felt a glowing warmth that was brought on by the man in front kars escort of me. I knew that if someone else were here, I would be embarrassed by what I was doing, but I just kept thinking of how I could never say “thank you” enough to him. That’s the place where the idea came from, and I didn’t wait long enough to consider any consequences. The idea, built on the intense feelings that Mark was drawing from me, was that I should give him a kiss like Alex and his dad kissed. I lifted my head and looked at Mark, he was smiling at me, and we were so close, that without thinking about it any longer, I leaned toward him and closed my eyes as I prepared to give him a kiss. But after closing the distance, there was nothing there. I opened my eyes and saw that Mark had pulled away and was staring at me with his eyes wide open. He looked completely shocked and my heart sank and I was completely embarrassed. I stumbled to find words, “Oh, sorry, I’m sorry, I…” “No, no,” Mark interrupted, “you just surprised me, it’s not your fault, it’s ok,” he said quickly. “You wanting to give me a kiss is about the sweetest thing that I’ve ever heard.” “Yeah?” I asked, having a hard time looking at him. “Yeah, totally,” he said, “we just said how much we love each other, if I was your dad it would be normal, right?” “Right!” I responded excitedly, “that’s what I was thinking; like Alex and Mr. Jordan.” Mark was still holding me and slowly stroking my back, “Should we try that again?” he asked with a smile. I nodded, and he started to move toward me, so I leaned toward him. This time I kept my eyes open, but saw Mark close his until our lips touched. We held for a second at most, then I pulled back. “That was so nice,” Mark said. “Yeah,” I answered dreamily, the contact having an immediate effect on me, my body responding in the way that you may expect, but I didn’t expect. I could feel my boner pushing against my pants as it tried to go up. This happened a lot lately, so I didn’t think much about reaching down and moving my blue jean covered wiener around so that it was pointed up toward my stomach. I could tell that Mark saw, but I didn’t know enough to be embarrassed. What I did know was that I didn’t want any of these feelings to end, and I leaned back toward Mark and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He smiled, so I did it again, moving around, kissing his chin, his nose, his other cheek. He had closed his eyes and started to sigh every time that my lips touched him. “Does that feel nice?” I asked. Now, let me tell you, I wasn’t stupid, I knew about sex, and I knew about being gay, but I wasn’t thinking about that at all. I just wanted to make the nice man happy. Giving me a contented smile, Mark said, “Oh my god, buddy, it feels sooo nice.” While this was going on, Mark had moved his hands down my sides, then down onto the sides of my thighs. While we talked he absently rubbed my thighs at the same time. It felt so good to have him do that, and I closed my eyes to enjoy the feeling. I was surprised when I felt something touch my lips, and my eyes popped open to find Mark kissing me, holding his lips to mine for a long time. My mind was all scrambled, the kiss and the hands on my body were so exciting that I started to push myself up against Mark without thinking. Still kissing, it took a second for my brain to register that I was pushing my penis against something. Realizing that I was pressing into Mark’s thumb, I couldn’t stop from rolling my hips against him. I wanted to tell Mark how good it felt for him to do that, but something told me that I shouldn’t talk, so I just kept pushing into his thumb, and he was pushing back. And the kisses kept coming, longer and pressing harder together until I felt something touch my lips. I gasped when I realized that it was Mark’s tongue. I knew about French kissing, I just hadn’t ever thought that boys could do it too. The shock was short-lived, and I opened my lips to let him touch my own tongue. Doing that was a crazy feeling, like a spark from walking on a carpet in socks, and I really got into it right away. It didn’t take long for the feeling of his finger on my penis and his tongue in my mouth to bring on a sensation that I was going to pee, but it was different. It was so intense that I thought that I should stope and at the same time I felt like it should happen. The shock of the feeling made me pull back and stare at Mark, not sure what to do, even though he was running his thumb along my boner. For the first time I wasn’t sure if he should keep doing that. “Let go,” he told me, “just let it go sweetie, let it feel good.” That’s what I needed, and I stopped fighting the good feelings. Within seconds, everything seemed to close in, it sounded like I was under a pillow as my body took over, I humped into Mark’s hand and finally I got “it”. I’d never gotten this far before, and I felt my voice crack when I cried out and felt my wiener go crazy, it felt like a factory was working between my legs, some kind of pump churning away, sending these incredible sensations through me. When it all stopped, I didn’t notice Mark’s hand move, but when I caught my breath I realized that it wasn’t pressing into my dick anymore. Somewhere in that weird thing we had stopped kissing, and when I looked at Mark he had a huge smile. “Did you just cum?” he said. “I don’t know what happened,” I answered honestly, “that was so weird.” “I think that the answer is `yes’,” he said, “I can explain some things to you, ok?” “Yeah, ok,” I answered, still kind of lost, “I’d like that.” “Good,” he told me, “and buddy, let’s not tell anyone about this, ok?” “No way!” I replied. I couldn’t imagine telling anyone about this, “I don’t want anyone to know.” That was all that we said for a minute, and I started to feel so relaxed that I leaned against Mark again. Still in his lap, I put my head on my shoulder and, without meaning to, I fell asleep in his arms. When I woke up, I was in my bed and Mark was covering me up. “Hey, buddy,” he said quietly, “you fell asleep,” he explained. I felt him stroking my hair for a moment, then he asked, “Can I give you a goodnight kiss?” There wasn’t anything that would have made me happier, so I said, “Mmm, hmm,” and let my eyes close, starting to fall back asleep when I felt his touch. It was just on my cheek, and he was only there for a second before I fell asleep, but I’d never felt happier and I couldn’t ever remember knowing, like I did right then, that I was loved.

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