Call Out Your Name Ch. 04

When he finally had me a dripping, moaning mess and I thought I was going to explode, I heard the words I had been longing for: "Turn over."

I got in position on my knees over a towel, head down and ass in the air, offering myself to him wantonly. "Shit, what a slut you are," he laughed. "Just a little anxious, eh?"

His correct assessment of me didn't hurt my feelings and I laughed. "For you, I'll be anything you want."

I heard a loving catch in his voice when he said, "Tell me what to do."

"Lube and condoms are in the nightstand drawer," I instructed hoarsely. "Use lots of lube. If it seems like too much, it's the right amount."

I tried to relax, but all I could think of was my last ill-fated attempt at bottoming. I knew Jesse was different in that he loved me, and the last was just teenage experimentation, but still. I hissed between my teeth when I felt the cold lube trickle down between the globes of my ass and his finger wiggling ever so slightly against my pucker trying to fight its way in.

"You're clenching," Jesse complained. "I may not have any experience, but even I know you need to relax." Reaching under me, he grasped my flagging cock with his other hand and began to pump it. It was enough to get me thinking about the sensations his stroking fingers were causing up and down my filling flesh instead of what that one digit was trying to invade, and he was able to slip it inside.

It burned. I bit my lip to keep from shouting out curses, knowing that Jesse would take it personally and stop. So I willed myself to stay quiet and let his finger saw in and out of me, and slowly my sphincter got used to the fullness. As the pain diminished, I calmed down, knowing it was under control and Jesse wouldn't hurt me.

"This is fantastic," Jesse exclaimed in awe, leaning his head against my hip. "You are so hot up inside, and it feels really soft, like silk or suede. Are you ready for more?"

"Alright, try a second one," I told him. Cool lube to the anus, a thicker intrusion but slightly less pain. I had Jesse scissor his fingers to open me up and I prepared for the third and final one.

He got his fingers up inside my ass without any trouble, and I was getting used to the odd feeling of being stretched when his twisting fingers brushed something there and I lit up like a candle.

"What did you do?" I gasped before realizing that he'd found my prostate. I never knew it made so much difference. "Oh my god, Jesse, do that again."

"Hmm, like that, do you?" Jesse laughed at my reactions but he turned his fingers around, searching inside me again. He began to stroke the hot spot, and my cock fired up firm and twitching as it began to leak a puddle of precum into the looped cotton beneath me. I could almost feel sparks inside me, like a chain being dragged behind a car, and my hips began to thrust in the air seeking a solid contact to hump against.

"In me," I begged Jesse. "In me... in me now."

It seemed like Jesse was taking forever to tear the cover off a condom, unroll it up his own rigid member and wrap his lubed fingers around himself to slick up. "Oh god, I don't know if I can make this last," he groaned.

"I know," I panted. "It might be the shortest fuck in history."

I had him line up behind me, and I felt the tip of his penis at my portal. I knew I was loose enough that the breaching wasn't going to be painful, so when he entered me I didn't tense up. It was still a shock; even though his dick was narrower at the end of his shaft, it was bigger than the breadth of his fingers, and Jesse waited for my signal.

"Okay," I breathed a few minutes later. "I'm okay as long as you move slowly."

I whimpered when Jesse began corkscrewing his hips and seeking out my depths. Not because it hurt, but because it felt so damned good. What arced through me was knowing that it was Jesse on the other end of his penis. This was my man inside making love to me. I trusted him, he trusted me and he would take care of me. It was as simple as that, the most elemental part of being in love.

He pushed in very slowly, parts of inches at a time. "You are a tight fit," he husked. "It feels so good, and I honestly don't have any way to describe it." I knew what he was speaking of, so he didn't need to explain.

He kept rocking forward, using my shoulder and hip for leverage, sheathing more of himself inside my hole with every pass. Finally, he was fully seated, and I could feel his pubic hair brushing my ass.

"Oh fuck," I moaned, almost overwhelmed.

Jesse was breathing harshly along with me. Shallow strokes of exploration turned into longer, deeper thrusts, and he nudged my knees a little farther apart so he could cradle my thighs better. At that point the physical sensation took over and became very intense when his cock scraped my prostate.

"Jesse... oh Baby... oh, yes... yes, harder."

He gave me harder. Jesse began to pound into me with everything he had, his hips snapping into me like a jackhammer. Every single thrust rubbed on those sensitive nerve endings, and I began to feel the tightening in my muscles and prickles racing through me. Jesse leaned over my back to wrap his hand around my cock, sliding it up and down for all he was worth as he kissed my shoulders. Sweat was dripping from my hair, off my nose and down my arms, and I could hear him panting like he'd run a marathon. Or maybe that was me.

"Shane, oh my god, I'm cumming."

I felt a quick pulse and then the warmth as he shot into the condom. It was all too much and every synapse seemed to fire at the same time in an orgasm I felt in my toes. My hole clamped around his dick, milking him of everything he had.

"Fuck, Jesse, fuck." I was screaming as I unloaded cum in long strings on the towel.

I collapsed underneath Jesse, and he caught himself on his elbow as he fell with me, concerned over making me take the brunt of his full weight. We continued to breathe hard until we came down from the heavens because that was where I ended up.

Jesse sent me into paradise.

I slept in the happiest of all possible places that night curled up around Jesse. We woke up twice; I made love to him the first time, and he reciprocated back just before dawn. We were tired but sated, and after the last I held him while he slept, pressing gentle kisses into his hair. If this was what living with him was going to be like, I couldn't wait to graduate and start making more money so we could find an apartment together.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to spend the day in bed with him. My job was calling me, and I had to be at the marina by seven. Carl was taking a group of divers out to Santa Cruz, one of the Channel Islands, instead of fishing. At least I didn't have to run to the fish market at dawn to buy bait. We got up and showered, I made a quick breakfast and drove Jesse home.

We spent Monday afternoon, the date of our real anniversary, making love at my house. The genie was out of the bottle now, and I discovered that with Jesse it didn't matter what position I played, it was magic.

We were lying in bed, and Jesse was running his fingers through my long hair. "You know, Mom has been giving me funny looks since Saturday night when you picked me up. I think she knows I'm gay so I've been thinking about telling her... also letting her know that you're my boyfriend."

"What about your grandfather?" I asked, whisking a drop of sweat off his chest. "Aren't you afraid of him finding out?"

Jesse shrugged. "I can't keep it a secret forever. If Mom knows, maybe she can help prepare him. I feel I need to tell her before someone else does. That wouldn't be cool."

Yeah, I could second that, given my own circumstances. I admired his bravery and told him so. I would give anything for that kind of courage and the ability to tell my parents to go to hell. But I still had to rely on my father for support, at least for the time being.

It was late May, and it seemed as if all of a sudden the senior class of Calberia High woke up and realized that the end of school was right around the corner. Our commencement exercises were scheduled for the evening of June 14, another anniversary for Jesse and me.

According to him, following the ceremony the seniors always went to Disneyland for Grad Nite. Having grown up around The Magic Kingdom, I knew exactly what it was; an hours-long event with hired bands and dancing and admission to all the attractions just for graduates.

We planned to attend together, and the idea of going to Disneyland with Jesse excited me, seeing as how, with thousands of eighteen year olds running around the theme park, the chances were unlikely we'd run into coeds from our own school. We'd be fine as long as we didn't call attention to ourselves which wouldn't be the smartest option in such a public place anyway.

The last Tuesday of the month and we had just returned from Memorial Day weekend. I got delayed by my 4th period Physics teacher asking about an assignment that wasn't in his grade book, and I had to fish it out of my binder to prove that not only had I turned it in but received an 'A' on it. I hurried to the quad, now ten minutes late for lunch, to find Jesse.

I found him alright from the sounds of shouts coming from the far corner where we always sat with his drama and dance friends. Weaving my way through the gathered crowd I saw Mark Butler and his usual posse pressed in close around him trying to start trouble. Jesse was anxious to avoid it but had nowhere to go. Apparently, Mark thought he could take advantage of my absence, and Jesse's back was against a lunch table. He glanced up at me just as I took my place behind Mark.

"Where's your bodyguard, fag?" Mark mocked nastily and his eyes glared in hatred, spoiling for a fight. One of the bullies closest to Jesse gave him a hard shove knocking him sideways, and I saw red.

"Here, fucktards," I said quietly. Mark jumped in surprise before spinning around to confront me.

"Oh, it's the other fag," he jeered, balling up his fist and attempting to slug me. I dodged.

"Instead of being your usual asshole self," I growled, ignoring both the slur and the blow. "Why don't you and the rest of your little girls run along."

Mark put his head down as if he was going to head-butt me, and that's when Mr. Peabody, the principal, shoved his way through the crowd. "Mark Butler," he called out, "I want you in my office. Now." He stared at Mark's friends menacingly. "And unless you want to be suspended too, I suggest you get back to eating lunch."

I walked up to Jesse who had, with his usual aplomb, sat down as if nothing had happened. On the other hand, I was trying to behave normally but wondered if Mark's taunts were simply words to throw out in anger or if I had inadvertently given my relationship with Jesse away. However, nobody else seemed to be paying us much attention so I let it go.

I also thought about the possibility that Mark might be Jesse's stalker and suddenly realized that he hadn't received a threatening letter since we returned from school after spring break. He said he was going to speak to his mother, and even though he hadn't brought it up once since then maybe she had found a way to finally stop them.

I guess I was sitting there with my mouth open because Jesse leaned over and softly said, "You're drawing flies, Blondie."

I smiled at him, anxious to share my insight because maybe he hadn't noticed either. "Jesse, the notes, they've stopped, haven't they."

He turned bright red, a quick blaze of guilt dashing across his face, and I instantaneously knew that any denial he spoke would be a lie. "Jesse," I hissed. "Have you been keeping them a secret from me?"

Without a word, he got up from the table and I followed. He led me to his locker, now falling all over himself to explain the how and why of his shame that this stalker, this homophobic jerk, kept picking on him and wouldn't relent. I had never seen him so rattled.

He opened the zip-lock bag in his locker and hesitantly drew out the top two pieces of paper. I scanned them quickly. The first said, 'R U watching Ur back, Jesse?' The second was even more ominous: 'I can get U N-E time I want.' I leveled an angry scowl at my boyfriend.

"You always freak out so badly," he admonished me in that deep voice of his that now sounded defensive. "I know you're worried about me, but..."

"When was the last one?" I interrupted tersely. I was tired of the justifications and the way he insisted on hiding his head in the sand.

He took the notes from me and flipped them over. In small letters he had written dates in the upper corner, and the latest said May 7. That was over three weeks ago which was unusual because he'd been getting them every week to ten days since January.

"I keep thinking that once school ends, so will the warnings," he all but pleaded. His eyes were bright with anxiety, mostly because he hated upsetting me. "That's less than three weeks. Then maybe it will be over."

Maybe, I thought. I hoped. On the other hand...

"Jesse," I asked, trying to keep my voice flat so he wouldn't see how upset I was. "Why do you suppose you're only getting the warnings here at school?"

"The guy is a student," he proposed defiantly.

"It's possible," I agreed, wishing it were that easy. "But even you have to acknowledge how easy it is to get on campus without challenge. No one has to check in at the office. No one patrols the parking lot. You are here every single weekday without fail so he knows any letter he leaves in your locker or on the Jeep you will eventually find."

He made a face as if he thought I was making a mountain out of a molehill. "That still doesn't mean it isn't a student. I swear, it has to be someone playing a prank on me and after we graduate, it will stop. I haven't even gotten any notes for almost four weeks so stop worrying about me."

I really wanted him to be right, especially now that the stalker seemed to be backing off. My choice was still to take the safe road and report what was going on. If it turned out I was wrong and the notes were part of a hoax, then I would gladly apologize and let Jesse tease me into tomorrow. I shuddered to think of the consequences if I was right. I still couldn't get over the way he'd hidden the latest of the threats from me.

"So what did your mom say?" I asked, veering on to another tack. "About the notes. Did she talk to anyone?"

"I don't know." His voice was abrupt and I could tell he was getting annoyed with me. "I haven't asked her lately. I just wish you would stop getting on my case about it. This is you so overreacting."

My head was starting to ache and I knew it was due to stress. I also realized I was seconds away from losing my temper. Jesse's naïve, simple-minded posturing and stubbornness grated on my nerves. But until he was willing to believe he was in danger and let an adult handle the situation instead of playing big know-it-all hero, there was little I could do. Not without taking the decision away from him, thereby crossing some serious boundaries. He would claim I was being melodramatic and use it as an excuse to deflect the problem. Again.

"I could be," I continued, fighting my irritation, "but better to be safe than sorry. Since none of the staff knows anything about your mystery stalker you have fucked up every chance you had of catching him. I don't want you to get hurt. I am scared that soon written threats won't be enough, and you keep blowing me off like it's nothing. Maybe if you had told someone else or trusted my advice, he might be in custody by now and this would be over."

"Stop treating me like a child," he grit out. "I need to do this my way."

"Your way," I sneered, "is going to get you hurt."

I turned on my heel and stomped off towards the quad to finish lunch. Jesse followed a few minutes later, and I stood up and left the table. His hang-dog expression continued through 5th period, but I tried to pretend not to see how sad he was, and when school ended I ran for my car and left immediately.

I went home annoyed at both of us. Him for sweeping the stalking issue under the rug and me for lashing out at him and expecting him to know what to do. I guess that most of all I was frightened. I loved Jesse, and the possibility that somebody out there might want to harm him drove me crazy. This was our first argument, one I had started where loving understanding might have been a better option, and I felt like shit.

So what did I do? I forgave him. He called me that night, his voice thick with tears. Hearing the despair I began to cry along with him.

"Shane, please, Blondie, just listen. I promise you if I get another note, just one more, I'll go to the authorities. Somebody at school or the police, okay? But please, please don't give up on me. I love you."

I loved him too. More than that, I needed him, and I couldn't bear to be the cause of his misery. I took Jesse at his word and hoped it would all work out like he expected.

Calberia High put on an end-of-the-year fine arts presentation, called just that, the Fine Arts Presentation, nicknamed the FAP. Choirs sang, the drama department staged short one-act plays and the dance students choreographed class and individual numbers to highlight the accomplishments of the year. Truthfully, the show was the seniors' last hurrah, and they were the focus.

Jesse, as both a drama and dance student was heavily involved. He exhorted me to attend the FAP on June 4, a Monday night, and I agreed if for no other reason than he wouldn't shut up about it. No, really I was quite proud of him and wanted to see him perform. He refused to tell me why it was so important, but I had a feeling he was preparing something special. Arrive early, he said.

I did, and a girl from my English class, Raven who sat behind me, was outside the auditorium, one of those in charge of admission. When she saw me she called me over merrily and handed me my ticket.

"You're on the VIP seating list so this is all bought and paid for," she enthused with a smirk. "It's in the front row too. Do you have a secret girlfriend in the show you've been hiding from us?"

"Yeah, uh-huh," I answered awkwardly, making my way quickly to the door to get away from her.

The show began half an hour later, just after I watched Jesse's mother take her VIP seat on the other end of the row along with a younger woman who looked like Jesse and a tall, straight gentleman in his sixties with shining gray hair and light brown eyes. They could only be Jesse's sister and grandfather. Sandra looked over at me and waved, and the other two followed her gaze to stare at me. It made me uncomfortable.

So, you know how these kinds of events transpire. Some of the songs were off-key, but one of the soloists, a very skinny brunette girl with braces, had this incredible voice that I expected to hear professionally within a matter of months, like she was headed for American Idol or The Voice. A few lines were dropped in the drama presentations, but Jesse awed me, naturally, with his talent. He was such a convincing actor I couldn't determine why he didn't think he had a future in movies or on the stage.

Jesse was listed as a solo dancer for the second-to-last number of the night. According to the written program, he was performing to Michael Bublé's I'm Your Man, which was a cover of an old Leonard Cohen song. He appeared on stage in a black tuxedo complete with top hat and cane, and most of the crowd broke out into cheers and wolf whistles.

The music began and he was gliding and slow-stepping around the stage, lip-syncing the song's lyrics. His eyes found me in the spectators and rarely left my face unless he had to make a turn, and within half a minute it was clear to me that he was singing the song in my honor.