This story is a work of erotic fiction. If for any reason it is illegal for you to read such material, you are advised not to do so. Neither I nor Nifty can accept any responsibility for whatever consequences might arise from your decision to read this story.
This story will at some point contain sexual interactions involving teenage males both together and with adult males (B/B and M/B). If this type of material offends you please navigate away from this page now.
This story is pure fiction and does not imply anything about the true sexuality of the celebrities mentioned and their private lives. This story is to serve as pure entertainment reading only.
This is my first attempt at writing a story, as such I am open to feedback which can be sent to StorybyDavid@hushmail.com while there is no guarantee I can respond to all feedback, I will try my best.
Taking a Chance Chapter One
I'm not really sure where I should begin so I guess the best place to start is at the beginning, in Metairie, Louisiana. Well I guess not really the beginning if you mean when I was born, but the beginning of when I realized I was different.
I guess I realized I was different when I got to junior high, before that things like girls did not matter much to me. What mattered before that time was school, hanging out and with friends, trying to survive the oppressive southern heat and humidity and of course for me playing sports. I'm not sure in what order each of those fell on a list of priorities but for me, like many other boys my age, just being a kid really was all that was important.
My mother was a school teacher and hence I suppose for her an education was her top priority for me. For my father, the construction foreman and ex-army staff sergeant, himself the son of a WWII veteran, physical activity was his top priority and therefore my playing of sports nearly year round from a very young age. He called America's current obesity problem years before all our so called experts started bringing the issue to the national spotlight.
Growing up as an only child to two parents who were both also only children, I was never really spoiled, but I also never really was denied anything I wanted within reason. When I asked for anything it was either a "yes", or if it was a larger ticket item a "we will think about it" which often resulted in an answer a few days later that sounded something like "You understand that this is expensive but we think it is a reasonable request Tommy". God I miss them, I loved them so much.
When I hit junior high things really changed. First and foremost I realized that while I was the youngest kid in my grade, I was also becoming one of the tallest. By seventh grade I was standing a 5'6" and had a couple of inches on most of my peers. As a side effect of this I came to realize it made me the center of attention for a lot of people, specifically a lot of girls. All my friends of course loved it because when they were with me they had the attention of all the girls by association. I was told more times than I can ever hope to remember by just about every girl I knew how much loved looking into my deep blue eyes and trying to guess who I was thinking about, and that was the problem.
I was thinking about Travis, my best friend and the quarterback from the football team more often than anybody else. He was also tall, but still about an inch shorter than I was. He had a thin build, blond hair that always looked like he had just gotten out of bed, brown eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across his nose. Nothing at the time turned me on more than looking at his ass in those tight football pants or even worse, sans pants in the locker room before and after games. It took all my will power thinking of everything under the sun other than Travis not to embarrass myself by getting an erection in front of the rest of the team. Travis was my first crush and therefore it is unlikely I will ever forget him.
Of course I knew the deal; it was not okay to like boys so I had to play the game. I went out with a few different girls, held hands, went to dances together and even kissed a good number of them over the years. I wondered how long I could play the game, well more like how long I could play the game and not get caught that is. I always felt like I was living on borrowed time and that at any given moment somebody would walk up to me and call my bluff. They good news is that it never happened, but my feelings of impending doom were not for nothing, as it turned out I had something to fear closer to home.
No, my parents never did find out I was gay, what I had to fear as it turned out in the middle of eighth grade was cancer. My mother had been feeling rundown for a few months and just attributed it to getting older while the kids she had in school stayed the same healthy 10 and 11 year after year. What changed however is when my thin mother started to lose weight and really did not look good at all. My father finally sat her down and told her that while they could not deny they were both getting older that there was more to this than age and walked her to the car and took her to the doctor. She always avoided going to the doctor saying how she did not want to be out of the classroom and away from her kids.
That cancer turned out to be breast cancer, and my mother fought a valiant fight for the next three years but in the end sadly she lost that battle, during my junior year at East Jefferson High School. While we all knew the last few months the end was near, it still did not ease the blow we both suffered when she finally passed away. Right through the last days my mother was reminding me to do my homework, study for this class or that test and not drop out of anything I was involved in, specifically football at that point. When I had practice or a game she always said she would be there until I got home, that she would not pass while I was gone, she kept her promise. She passed away on a Sunday morning in our home as she wanted and I have been a supporter of Hospice program ever since. While she was too weak to speak that Sunday morning, what she managed to whisper to me the night before was how much she loved me, that she would always watch over me, and not to be afraid to live my life as I wished.
The only good thing to come out of my mother's death was for those three years she was sick, while I studied my ass off and worked my ass off playing football, I used her illness as an excuse not to have much of a social life. It more or less saved me from having to date anybody as when I was done at school, or done with football for the day I would head right home to be with her and my father. My friends understood this, both guys and girls and gave me plenty of space and privacy, Travis was the only exception during that time. While I loved him, lusted him, he only got better looking as he got older. Travis was so supportive of me and my family; he became more like family during that time, a brother to me more than anything else. The bad thing is when mom did pass away the girls were worse than ever, so many wanted to be there to console me and hold me but I obviously had no interest.
As my junior year wound down my father sat me down and explained where we were financially. He explained that getting an education was still my top priority but money was going to be an issue. In addition to having lost my mother's income, he had spent all of their savings trying to save her. While I was a straight A student and a damn good football player, if I was going to go to college as it was my mother's dream for me, I was going to have to get a scholarship. This became my next excuse to forgo any type of relationship for the remainder of my time in high school.
Yes I worked my tail off at East Jefferson High School, academically and as an East Jefferson Warrior on the field. I really had no idea where I was going to apply but the fall of my senior year the answer found me, and it came in the form of a scout from Florida State University. They were interested in me, and of course I was in them, if they could provide me with a full ride. Turns out they could and would. I almost backed out however, after thinking about it I realized I would be leaving my father alone if I went to FSU. My father of course would have none of that and insisted that I go, that my mother was still with both of us.
So in the fall of 2004 while a young 17, we packed my stuff up in my father's truck and drove to FSU. While I was a good football player, I was also realistic and knew I would never go beyond college ball and working hard academically was going to be just as important, if not more important, than what I did on the field. I opted to study Criminology and Criminal Justice while there, I found it all really fascinating and thought perhaps once I was done with college, I could either look into a career in law enforcement, or perhaps, if I could pull off the grades and get some scholarships look into law school.
As busy as I was for some crazy reason I also got myself involved in the ROTC program my freshman year, I did it part to honor my father and grandfather's past, and part to fill up every spare moment I had to again keep myself too busy to ever get myself into a relationship. As busy as I was freshmen year went amazingly well, I managed to maintain a 4.0 all while taking 21 credits each semester, playing ball and my involvement with ROTC.
That first summer home I worked with my father in construction, it paid well and made me some decent money that would come in handy for my sophomore year at school. I had topped out at about 6'1" and was a solid and very fast on the field 190lbs. Because of football by early August 2005 I was back at school for practice, we were looking forward to a great year, that is, until Mother Nature lashed out at my family next. Yes hurricane Katrina had other plans for my family, no Katrina did not hit me in Florida, as everybody knows, Louisiana felt her furry.
There was a mandatory evacuation in Metairie, I called and spoke to my father to make sure he was leaving and as it turned out he had no plans to do so. It was the first time I had ever heard my father cry, he said there was no way he could leave; the house was all we had at that point and even at that the equity was negligible as it was mortgaged to the hilt. I told him to forget it, that it was insured, to take what he could and to please leave, I begged him to get out. He finally said what I had feared was the real reason and that was he could not bear to leave the house where my mother had passed away. So there I was stuck in Florida with my father refusing to leave the house Louisiana. I begged some more, cried with him and finally realized I was not going to change his mind. I crossed my fingers, prayed, did not sleep, paced my dorm room and finally prayed some more. Watching the hurricane reports on TV only feed my fears as the night wore on.
After the storm passed I knew getting in touch with him would be difficult at best, land lines would be down and cell networks if they had power would be over whelmed for who knew how long. As August 30th stretched into the 31st and than into September 1st I knew I was in trouble. If my father was okay he would have found a way to contact me. I also knew that there was no way I could even get home to check on him; there was no way to get to Metairie at all and even if I could, chances are the National Guard would have kept me out. I was watching the news and while most of it centered on New Orleans itself, there was enough coverage to see Metairie was not in great shape either.
I had no choice but to continue with classes, football and praying, while it was hard to stay focused what choice did I have until I heard anything or they allowed people to return to Metairie. I was on the field when I found out for sure what I feared and I saw the news coming, or should I say I saw them coming. Campus security entered the stadium and with them was a Florida state trooper; I watched them approach head coach Bobby Bowden, talk with him for a few minutes and then all look over at me. As coach walked over to me I remember just staring at him and it seemed like all the noise and chaos around me suddenly grew very distant and out of focus, as if I was detached from it all.
Coach Bowden asked me to come over to the sideline with him and that is the last thing I remember until I woke up in the locker room. They tell me I did walk over to the sideline with coach Bowden, they say I started talking to the state trooper, and then they said I dropped like a pile of wet rags to the ground. I remember none of that but I knew when I woke that I had lost my father. It turns out that he was one of the 29 reported deaths in Metairie from hurricane Katrina, the hurricane that left me an orphan.