Going Bi – 2

From now on, this is all b/b guys. Please don’t expect otherwise.



Thanks to Carolyn, I had morphed literally overnight into a superstud. Three months into my sixteenth year, I had fucked three different girls besides Carolyn. I liked the sex, and I liked girls more than before, but I had that feeling we all get sooner or later that sex wasn’t all I wanted. I was still lonely, and I think screwing girls made it worse because each time it was a new girl, I cared for her a little less. I still looked at boys, and in my heart of hearts, I had that vague loneliness a Gay boy feels growing up. I wanted to find another boy like me, a boy I could love.

Then Jason showed up at our house with Tyler, and the moment I saw him with my brother, my fantasy became that the “boy like me” would be a boy like Tyler.

Not that he acted gay. He didn’t. He seemed straight as any boy that age, but he was far too cute to not dream about. Tyler had thick chestnut hair and steel blue eyes. Not as tall as me, he was slimmer. Even at fourteen, he had a swimmer’s build — the wide shoulders, narrow hips. That First Time I saw him, I was on a stool at the kitchen island watching a Yankee’s game on TV when the two of them came in for a soda.

Tyler’s eyes met mine, and he grinned — a wonderful grin, the grin of a guy who was naturally happy. I saw those white teeth and that boyish grin, and my stomach knotted.

“Tyler, meet the elder sibling,” Jason cracked, opening the fridge. “See if you can get him to talk.”

Tyler flashed me another grin like he didn’t buy in to my brother’s characterization. “You swim?” Tyler asked.

“I sink,” I told him. “Like a rock.”

“We all sink, bro,” Jason said, handing Tyler a soda. “It only takes a little coordination to swim. You just ain’t got none.”

“I can swim,” I told Tyler. “But I’m not fast.”

“You’re tall,” Tyler told me, leaning onto the kitchen island beside me. “You should give it another try. It’s mostly technique.”

I shrugged. Damn, his eyes were dazzling.

“Yeah, right,” Jason said, leaning onto the island on the other side of Tyler.. “Stick to sports you’re good at, Brock. Don’t let him talk you into drowning.”

“What are you good at?” Tyler asked, sounding genuinely interested. The tops if his eyebrows were lined in reddish-gold from the sun. There was more reddish-gold at his temples.

I managed another shrug. “Baseball, I guess. And football, basketball, track.”

Tyler’s eyebrows rose, like he was impressed.

“Girls,” Jason added. He leaned close behind Tyler. “Brock just became ‘sexually active.'” He laughed.

“Oh,” Tyler said. Did a little of the smile go out of his eyes? Did I imagine that? Was Tyler unimpressed with a jock whose goal in life was to bang girls? I could have kicked my little brother because I wasn’t one of them.”

“Brock’s good at sports,” Jason said, “because he doesn’t know when to quit. He never gives up. He doesn’t know how to give up. He’s got a brain like his body – strong-willed and stubborn as an ox. Nobody can get more hard-headed about something than Brock.” Jason grinned and winked at me. “But being determined won’t keep you from drowning.” He poked Tyler in the ribs. “C’mon,” Jason said, turning to leave the kitchen. “Let’s go up to my room.”

Tyler backed toward the door. “Good meeting you,” he said, and gave me a small, parting smile.

“Yeah,” I called after him. I hoped I didn’t look as achy as I felt in my gut. For the first time in my life, I had an instant crush.

As far as I was concerned, I was gay all over again, more gay than ever. That night, I jacked off thinking of Tyler and his smile. I pictured him naked. I imagined him gay instead of straight. I imagined he liked me and that we made out.

Actually, Tyler did seem to like me, maybe as instantly as I liked him. But then, straight guys do get bro-crushes and, like I said, Tyler didn’t act gay. Jason wouldn’t hang out with him if he did.

And Jason did hang out with him. Tyler was over every day that week, and it looked like he and Jason had become instant good friends like guys can be sometimes. Having Tyler around only made things worse for me, however. It was a struggle to keep my eyes off him, and the more I knew I couldn’t have him, the more I wanted him.

I liked everything about him. I didn’t just want him. I wanted him to be my friend, too, like he was Jason’s. I became what my grandma used to call, lovesick. Literally. After an afternoon of him around and me hiding endless erections, I felt feverish, restive.

Tyler for his part always talked with me when he came over. He made sure that he and Jason included me in stuff they did. Jason didn’t seem to mind. In spite of the way he liked to prod me, Jason and I got along okay, especially with two game controllers in our hands.



I was in the living room reading, Friday afternoon when Jason and Tyler came through on their way to our backyard pool.

“Dude,” Jason paused to ask, “how come you’ve been hanging out around the house so much this week?”

I looked up, saw them in their Speedos, and my brain turned to mush. This was before guys wore jammers, and the two of them were in low-riding swim briefs with towels tossed over their shoulders. It was the first time I saw Tyler without shirt and shorts. His legs were well-formed, not with the definition of a runner, but with the shapeliness of a swimmer. He was as hairless as me and his skin had the glow of a warm tan. His limbs were long, his belly flat, and the inguinal creases of his pelvis dove like a V into the front of his briefs and into his well-packed pouch.

I realized I was staring and quickly looked away.

“You okay, Brock?” Jason asked.

“What? Yeah?” I shot Tyler a glance.