by-conner

[by-conner]

God I've had this blog forever. February 2015 will make 3 years. 

Thanks guys for still liking my posts from when I was high school, haha.

[by-conner]

Father,

It has been many years since my last confession. This confession now is rather unusual. I confess that I do not accept the Lord into my heart. And I can not. But I know that my father has and does still. And God means a lot to my father, and I can only hope he means a lot to Him. I cannot begin to understand the ways of God, but I hope that I understand his nature. Is he not forgiving? Is he not kind? I believe He is. Will he not help the helpless? Will he not save the sinners?

Soon I will hear back about my father’s health. I am here today not to ask for God’s grace because of my own interest, but for the sake of my father. If God cherishes at all any kind of goodness, he will know my father is a good man. He loves God, and I am asking God to return that love.

Please pray for my father. Not for my sake. But for his. For my mother’s sake. For my family’s sake. So that he can see my siblings begin their own families. So that his grandchildren will grow up knowing their grandfather like I grew up knowing mine. So that he will see his children fulfill a dream he never thought possible for us: graduating from college.

I have so much still to learn from him. And he has so much more to teach. There is so much life to be lived and love to be shared. I am not ready to face death. I am not ready to live without a loved one. Especially without him.

Please, God, protect my dad.

I love him.

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. I am selfish. I do not want my father to be ill. He has to see me finish school. He has to see me start my family. He has to know that his son is happy. He cannot get sick, because I need him.

Please, God, protect my dad.

And thank you, Father. But I hope we will not see each other for a long time.

[by-conner]

In Order to Graduate

Fanfiction

- - - -

Introductions Norman Babcock/Dipper Pines (Parapines) College AU

Dipper has only one semester left before he graduates with a Bachelor's in the Science of Investigative Studies from Langford Bay University, in Westmont, Delaware. His degree program requires that this be a semester long apprenticeship with a local police detective. While most students learn from investigators working in the nearby capital, Dover, Dipper is sent up fifteen minutes north to Winthrop, Delaware. Detective Dexter Lysander takes Dipper under his wing to show him the unusual, unbelievable, and supernatural.

{Author's Note: Please pay attention to the setting descriptions. I jump around with the timeline, so be mindful of the times.}

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

[Criminology Advising Office, Townsend Hall, Langford Bay University, Wesmont, Delaware][12:30PM][Last May]

"Dipper Pines," the woman repeated, searching for Dipper's name on the list in front of her. His appointment finally arrived and Dipper would finally know who he would be working with for his final semester at Langford Bay. This was his chance to finally work out in the field and hone his skills as an expert investigator.

"Oh here you are," Dipper's advisor muttered, typing something into her computer from her list. The woman always reminded Dipper of a frog. She was wide and could stare at you for half an hour without once really looking at you. "Your mentor will be Detective Dexter Lysander," she croaked. "He works up in Winthrop. Do you know where that is? It's only fifteen minutes up Highway 1."

Winthrop? Dipper thought all the mentors worked in Dover, like in an actual city where police investigations occurred.

"You know you're the first one to be assigned up there. Guess they didn't have room for ya in Dover!" the advisor quipped, smiling at Dipper in a way that told him that she was done talking to him.

"Okay, thanks," Dipper muttered, standing up and walking out of the office. Before he was out of the building, he was looking up Detective Dexter Lysander on the internet on his phone.

- - - -

[Winthrop Police Department Headquarters, Winthrop, Delaware][1:20PM] Lunch went by too quickly. Dipper was back in the office organizing some files when the detective entered. His mentor told him that he was allowed to finally tag along on a case. "Ghost stuff," Lysander said. Dipper beamed at the scruffy man with tired eyes, who took a sip of his coffee while flipping through the case file on his desk. It had been two weeks of mindless busy work around the police station for Dipper, copying papers, transporting reports from desk to desk, and retrieving coffee, while Lysander waited for the higher-ups to approve a case that he could bring his eager student along.

Dipper stepped over to the desk, leaning over to try to read the file from behind the detective's shoulder. "What kind of ghost stuff? Like an evil-spirit-haunting-a-house ghost or like needs-help-moving-on kind of ghost? How did it die? What are we going to do with it?" Dipper asked quickly, each question tripping over the other. He reached behind the desk to fetch his notebook from his backpack and titled an empty page as "Case #1" as he resumed peering at the casefile. He was beyond ready to start. The detective chuckled a bit at the barrage of questions, refreshed by the enthusiasm that became a bit too rare in the office for Lysander's liking.

Taking another sip from his mug, he searched the papers before him for the answers. "Let me start from the beginning, huh? There's this hotel, right? And one of the rooms has been supposedly haunted for years and years. By just one ghost." Lysander eyed Dipper's pen jotting notes almost as quickly as he spoke. "The old owners used it as a gimmick to help business. And I guess it's been working for a while."

"And people stayed there in a haunted room? Why?" Dipper interjected, the tip of his pen reaching up to the edge of his mouth, and his eyebrows furrowed.

"Wouldn't you stay there?" the detective countered. After a quick moment of contemplation, Dipper nodded silently. "People did it for the thrill. For the story. It was a harmless ghost anyway; the worst it did was move your suitcase or flip the lights on and off. Anyway, the gimmick wore off. People stopped coming and the old folks sold the place."

"And the new owners don't like the ghost?"

"Nah, they're a little more trepidatious. So they called the police, and they passed the buck to us." Lysander reached for his mug, closing the case file, and waited for Dipper's note taking to finish. This was probably a good time to get creamer.

- - - -

[W 300 Block, Ash Street][5:05PM] Dipper stepped out of the white sedan, careful not to slam the door too hard; he didn't want Detective Lysander to snap at him again. Slipping his sunglasses back over his eyes, he noticed the pale colors from the setting sun painting the sky into a brilliant fire. A gust of wind sneaked under Dipper's jacket, reminding him that the fire in the sky did nothing to warm the freezing January evening, and that maybe two coats were better than one.

"You ever been here?" Lysander asked Dipper, rubbing his whiskered chin and squinting over the remaining sunlight at the storefronts ahead of them. Dipper didn't venture downtown many times, mainly because he never had a reason. Everything he needed was primarily on campus. Mabel used to try to drag him downtown when they were freshmen. And she often took him up to Wilmington whenever she got a chance.

Then they grew up. They got caught up beginning their lives and finishing school. Mabel had her life and Dipper had his. They ate together and resided together in the same apartment, they shared the electric bill and responsibility of cleaning up after a party with friends. But they didn't live together. Not like when they were kids.

"Not over here particularly," Dipper said, eying the unfamiliar street name on the sign, then the stores in front of him. A regional bank occupied one corner spot, next to a coffee shop, a tattoo parlor, a small barbeque shack, then a print studio and a floral gallery at the opposite corner. Some customers exited the coffee shop, only to be traded for a couple of underclassmen looking for a place to study. A family passed Dipper and Lysander as they walked down the street toward the bank end. The young son still had barbeque sauce on his cheek.

"Really? I took you for a let's-check-out-the-new-magnolia-exhibit-at-the-gallery kind of guy," the detective grinned, a cloud of breath escaping from the sides of his mouth. Dipper shoved his hands in his pockets, shaking his head at the joke.

"I prefer examining the tattoo art," Dipper teased back.

- - - -

[Gold Treasure Tattoos, 330 W Ash Street, Wesmont, Delaware][5:00PM] Norman worked too much to be called lazy, but was too lazy to convince them that he was in fact lazy. He took Tambry's closing shift for the umpteenth time, partly to put more dollars on his paycheck, but mostly to avoid going back home. Home was where he had homework and bills and dirty dishes. The tattoo parlor was his little sanctuary, where he practiced his ink and stood around on his phone. And got paid to do it.

"Norman, niño, go home. The sun has set and you've been here all day," a 30-something Dominican woman drifted into the front from her office in the back. Genevalisse Salvatierra owned the tattoo shop, called Gold Treasure Tattoo (an attempt to appeal to the students of Langford Bay University, who were the Pirates). Norman turned to see Genie, as she was called, who was looking warmly at the college senior, one hand on her hip.

"I took Tambry's shift tonight," Norman explained, returning to his design notebooks to add a couple more strokes to his sketch.

"Estás aquí demasiado," Genie sighed, knowing she couldn't force him to leave even if she dragged him by his tall black hair.

"'I'm here'... what's 'demasiado' mean again?" Norman wondered aloud, looking at his boss.

"It means 'too much'!" Genie exclaimed, to which Norman nodded. "Hace dos años que trabajas para mí and your Spanish has not gotten any better."

"Sorry, jefa. But to be fair, I have learned how to swear," the young man pointed out, smiling up at her. She let out a little smirk and patted him on the shoulder, nodding in agreement. She remembered one afternoon when Norman was practicing on fake skin and realized, only when he was about to finish, that the zombie face he was drawing was completely asymmetrical. He swore out loud in Spanish in frustration, catching only Genie's attention, who snickered at his outburst.

"¿Qué dibujas?" Genie asked, looking over Norman's shoulder at his sketchbook. A rough drawing of a ghost floating out of a fresh grave filled half of the page. The other half were just different attempts of the ghost. Norman moved the notebook to give his boss a better view.

Behind them the front door opened, causing a bell to clamor. Norman and Genie turned to greet the new customers, but skipped the usual welcoming when they saw who it was. It had been a few months, but Norman recognized the detective, who upon landing his gaze on Genie, approached the front counter. He never received a tattoo, Norman noticed; hell, the man probably didn't have any to begin with. He only ever spoke with his boss in fake small talk, then she'd invite him to the back room and tell Norman to watch the store while she was busy.

At first he thought they had sex, but they always left looking disgruntled and on edge. Whenever he sneaked to the back and leaned his ear to the door, all he heard was muffled chatter. Definitely not the sounds of making love.

"Bonsoir, belle," Detective Lysander approached Genevalisse, who grinned at him.

"Leave the French at the door, Dexter. You know the rules: English or Spanish only. Preferably español." Genie replied, beckoning the older man over to her with her finger.

"Haré qué tú quieres que hago, amiga," The detective returned, walking up to the woman.

"¿Quién es el niño?" Genie asked, motioning to Dipper, who stood a couple feet from the two. Dipper scowled at the 'niño', knowing that the woman thought he couldn't understand her. But he knew, and he hated being called a kid.

"Ayudo Señor Lysander con sus investigaciones, ...vieja." Dipper replied before Lysander could, smiling. Genie's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I'm mentoring him this semester," Lysander added.

"He's quick," Genie said, then turned back to Dipper. "Where you from? Arizona? California?"

"California," Dipper replied, impressed she guessed so accurately.

"I can tell you had un profesor mexicano from your accent. Keep up the studying, and I might look past your 'vieja' comment," she teased.

- - - -

[Gold Treasure Tattoos][5:20PM] Nothing. Norman has added nothing to his sketch in the last fifteen minutes. He told himself that he'd finish the ghost before he left for the night. He had a whole portfolio to complete if he wanted to even have a chance of opening his own parlor one day.

The detective said the guy's name was Dipper, Norman remembered, looking up at the guy sitting in the front of the store. Norman wondered if Dipper's hair would be taller than his own if the other boy had made an attempt of grooming it. It wouldn't fit under his beanie, though, if it stood straight up. And he looked kinda cute in his beanie.

Did this ghost wear beanies before he died? Norman pondered, returning his gaze to his sketchbook. Well, it'd be a person who wore beanies, who then died and became a ghost. Why didn't he move beyond, though? Did he have unfinished beanie business?

Dipper was reading from a notebook, probably doing his homework or something. Norman wondered if Dipper was a freshman or sophomore, since he looked kinda young.

This ghost was young when he died. He never got to finish college. That was his unfinished business.

Did Dipper go to Langford Bay like Norman? He hasn't seen the other boy around the campus, as far as he could remember. Is he just in town with the detective? He could go to some school in Dover. Or he said he was from California. Maybe he studies there and is just in town for a little bit.

The tombstone is pretty small. This ghost's family would have paid for a bigger headstone.

If Dipper was only in town for a little bit, Norman would never have to worry about an awkward encounter later if he hooked up with the boy in the beanie.

- - - -

[Gold Treasure Tattoos][5:30PM] "Hey. Dipper, right?" The tattoo artist asked, as he walked up to the front counter at the opposite corner of the waiting area from Dipper. Dipper looked up from his phone, interrupted from his research about the ghost in the hotel.

"Yeah."

"How come you didn't go with the detective? To the back." Norman pointed behind him with his thumb, towards the back room where Genie and the detective were meeting.

"He told me to just wait here," Dipper shrugged.

"Oh. He said he was mentoring you?"

"Yeah. I'm studying to be an investigator."

"At Langford Bay?"

"Yeah."

"Oh cool, I go there too. I'm about to graduate in Business Administration." Norman hoped Dipper would be impressed.

"I'm graduating, too, but with Investigative Studies." Oh, Dipper is Norman's age.

"Cool."

"Yeah."

"Is it fun? Running around and chasing ghosts and stuff?"

"Who told you about ghosts?"

"I know about the detective, and if he's the one teaching you anything, it has to be about the supernatural."

"Well, yeah, I think it's pretty fun."

"You do anything else for fun?"

"Not really, actually," Dipper chuckled in embarrassment.

"Oh. Well, maybe, I don't know, we can grab a drink or something. That can be fun, you know." Norman looked down as he spoke, only landing his gaze on Dipper when he finished.

"Like you and me at a bar?" Dipper's face became a little flush. He wasn't asked by many people to go out and drink. Or do anything, really.

"Well I'm not talking about drinking milk with grandma and grandpa back there. Come on, you got do something besides work. It'll consume you. I'd know," Norman smirked, recalling every time Genie reminded him how many hours he worked each week, with what seemed like pity in her voice. Pity in a teasing way, of course. Probably.

"I don't know, I don't even know who you are." Unable to keep looking at Norman's piercing blue eyes, Dipper eyed the phone in his hand for a moment. But he looked up again as Norman responded. Dipper kinda liked the other guy's eyes.

"I'm Norman. I'm a tattoo artist here at Gold Treasure Tattoos. I've been attending Langford Bay University for the last four years. Born and raised in Massachusetts then moved here for college." He spoke as if he were in an interview. "Now you know who I am, what about you?"

The edge of Dipper's lips curled up, just a little. "I'm Dipper Pines. I already told you everything about me: I go to school to be an investigator and I work with Detective Lysander."

"That's it?"

"I'm from California, but I guess I already said that, too," he added, shrugging.

"How about this, you think about yourself for a while, come up with some really interesting stuff, and after you get off work," Norman looked down and scribbled a note on a small piece of paper, "shoot me a text, and we'll meet at Monte Cristo so you can tell me all about it." Norman walked over and handed the paper to Dipper.

Dipper grabbed the scrap of paper, thinking hard about what was happening. It had been a while since Dipper had been to a bar, especially in order to meet someone for drinks. Actually, Mabel had been insisting that he get out and do something other than work. Maybe this would get her off his back.

"Sure thing," Dipper replied, earning a big grin from Norman the tattoo artist. An awkward silence set in, as Dipper did not know how to continue the conversation, though, he didn't really want it to end. Norman had some... charm to him. Even if he had too much hair gel on his head.

"Ever think of getting a tat?" Norman asked, sitting down next to Dipper.

"Never!" Dipper exclaimed.

- - - -

[Gold Treasure Tattoos][6:10PM] The two boys heard the backroom door squeak as it opened. They raised their heads and waited for their elders to appear in their vision. Lysander's face was hard to decipher, which only meant he was thinking too hard. Which meant this case might not be as open-and-shut as Dipper had wished. Genie walked up to the front counter, leaned onto it, and looked outside at the street, illuminated by the artificial light of the street lamps. Then she peered over at Norman in Dipper sitting in the chairs reserved for waiting customers.

"Comfortable?" the detective asked Norman as he approached. Suddenly Dipper was aware of Norman's one hand on his shoulder and other resting neatly in the crook of Dipper's elbow, his head up to look at Lysander, but only moments ago lying on his hand on Dipper's shoulder. Norman just wanted a better view of Dipper's phone as he played funny ghost videos.

His heart racing and face red, Dipper stood up, shaking off his new friend. "Ready to go?" he asked, hoping the moment of awkwardness could be rushed over.

"Yeah sure. Let's go," Lysander nodded. He thanked Genie, said goodbye to Norman, and led Dipper out of the store. He would tease Dipper later, maybe tomorrow. At the moment, he had some news to share.

Meanwhile, Genie gave Norman a certain face, but said nothing. Norman looked around defensively. "What? He's cute!" The Dominican woman just rolled her eyes and shook her head, but let Norman see her grin as she turned around to resume her work.

- - - -

[Monte Cristo Tavern, 715 S 8th Street, Wesmont, Delaware][10:15PM] Saturday night brought out the crowd, filling most of the seats at the tables, making some people opt for the patio. There was some attempt by the management to heat it, at least. Norman was one of few who remained at the bar after receiving their drinks, the rest happily grabbed their glasses and retreated to their group of friends, celebrating another end of another week.

Peering over at the door every few moments, Norman found himself wishing just a little extra hard that this one show up. He remembered the last guy he met at a bar. He was tall and tan and a pre-med student. But unfortunately, he was a, well, a pre-med student. He and Norman found themselves having little in common. They resorted to talking about the only thing they had in common: previous hook-ups on campus. In comparison to the stories the guy shared, their sex that night was lackluster.

Norman's phone vibrated on the bartop, which he quickly grabbed. He got a text from an unknown number, but he knew it was Dipper.

"Sorry, can't make it tonight. I got too much work stuff." Norman felt his heart sink into his stomach. He glanced at the time, and predicted he'd be in bed before midnight. So much for that condom he tucked away in his wallet. He tapped the reply button next to Dipper's message.

Then his phone alerted him of new text. "Maybe tomorrow?" it read. Norman's lips curled up, feeling the disappointment evaporate from his body. At least Dipper actually wanted to hang out. That was something.

"Sure, sounds good," Norman replied. He sent the message and paid the bartender for his single beer.

"Text me tomorrow and we'll think of something," Dipper wrote back. Sitting down into the driver's seat of his car, Norman sent a quick "ok", then turned the key in the ignition and drove back home. He had dirty dishes to do, anyway.

[by-conner]

Hey Brandon,

Hey Brandon,

I haven't been able to get you out of my head since you left last night. That was probably one of the best nights I've ever had. That moment when you put your hand on my chin, and I looked up at you and we kissed for the first time... that was extraordinary. It stills makes me blush a little bit.

And yet I know neither of us came that night (at least not while we were together). I know I want to make you cum. God I want to pleasure you. I didn't think I would ever bottom for someone, but feeling your dick through your briefs on my butt was unlike anything else. I definitely want to bottom for you. Like right now, as I write this. I've wanted to since you slipped your hands under the waistband of my boxers.

So I don't really know why I sent you home. I guess I was worried you'd leave like the other guy. But now that I'm two hours away, I want nothing else but to be able to call you up and have you in my bed again. The point of the waiting was so I could have some type of promise to see you again. Because our date was actually fun.

I cannot wait for our next one. I don't think I can last until Friday again, but maybe all the waiting will be worth it.

God, I want to send you dirty texts and flirt with you and hold your hand again and kiss you. Even if I still don't know how to make out properly yet. I want to go back to that little hipster store and browse through all the things again. I want to throw that poncho back on you and make you try all the hats. I want to say clever things that make you poke my arm and call me cute. I want to fall asleep on your chest and wake up kissing you. I want to take you to a dining hall and eat with you and show you off to all my friends.

I want to teach you how to drive because you're 22 and still don't even have a license. I want you to sneak me into your house because your parents are sleeping upstairs. I want to take you to the mall and let you try on the clothes you want without your brother around to tell you that you have bad taste. Because you don't even have bad taste.

I want to ask you what kind of kinks you have. What kind of underwear turns you on? Do you think I should shave or not? Did you like it when I held down your hands? Do you like being teased?

I want you to show me how to kiss. I want you to go slow and tell I'm doing a good job bottoming for the first time. I want you to kiss me hard and run your fingers down my back. I want you to make me moan like that again.

I hope you don't think I'm weird or crazy for having these thoughts.

I hope you think some of these things too.

Can't wait to see you again,

Conner

[by-conner]

"Back at His Place"

Martin unlocked the door and led Tad into his apartment. He kicked off his shoes, emptied his pockets onto the kitchen counter, and returned to the living room, where Tad took a seat.

Tad didn't really know what to say, so we waited for Martin to start a conversation. Instead, he reached into a cabinet in a table next to a big armchair. Out he pulled a bong.

Tad just sat and watched as Martin took a hit from his bong. The white smoke billowed from the bottom where he held his lighter into Martin’s mouth. He pulled the pin and continued inhaling until Tad could see through it again. Martin exhaled and blew out all the smoke, relaxing into his chair.

"You want some?" he asked, holding out the bong to his guest.

"No, thanks. I don’t really smoke," Tad replied, throwing his hands up.

"Oh." Martin set the cheap thing on the floor next to his chair, surveying his living room and settling his gaze on Tad. "So what do you do to relax?"

Tad chuckled a bit, knowing he didn’t have any answer that made him sound cool. He never smoked or kicked back with a beer (alcohol was too expensive to not use it to get drunk). “I just watch TV or something,” he said, thinking it was an alright answer.

"You ever jack off?" Martin asked with a smile.

"What? I mean, yeah, I guess so."

"I have a good pedal every day or so. It’s only natural."

"A pedal?"

"A wank. A jacking off. I’m always a little horny, you know?" Martin remarked, his hand drifting towards his crotch. Tad’s heart began speeding up.

Does he want me to go over there and jack him off? Do I just walk over there?

"You ever do anything like this, before, Tad?"

Tad shook his head no, embarrassed but relieved he wasn’t expected to know what to do anymore.

"Come over here," Martin beckoned patting the couch cushion between his legs. "Let me show you how this kinda thing goes down," he suggested, grinning at his guest. Tad got up from his seat and stood in front of Martin, trying to get as close as possible. "Kneel down," he said, unbuckling his belt and pulling down his jeans. Kneeling in front of Martin, Tad couldn’t help but stare at the plaid red boxers of the guy in front of him. Up close, he could smell the body spray and sweat from Martin’s skin and some of the weed from the bong.

Tad brought his hands up to Martin’s knees, touching his bare skin for the first time. Those little hairs on his legs were rather blond. “You ever suck a dick before?” Martin asked. Tad looked up to meet his gaze.

"Only once back at Lanford," he replied, noticing Martin’s boxers twitching, which caused his own twitching in his khakis.

"You like it?"

"Yeah," Tad smiled, moving his hands more, rubbing Martin’s knees and inner thighs. Martin returned the smile, reached down under the waistband of his boxers and pulled his erection through the hole in the front. It was the first uncircumcised penis Tad had seen in person.

"Go for it, buddy," Martin said, reaching forward to grab the back of Tad’s head and pull his head closer. Tad’s hand finally reached over and wrapped his fingers around Martin’s shaft as if it were his own dick. He pulled the skin to reveal the head. At this point Tad couldn’t believe he was about to actually suck the cock of a guy he had just met because Quinton got him to buy the guy a drink.

I guess I can thank Quinton for this.

Leaning forward, Tad finally brought his lips to Martin’s dick and tried his best to not still seem like a total beginner. At least this wasn’t his first time, right?

Tad racked his brain quickly for the kinds of things he saw in porn. He continued to jerk whatever he didn’t have in his mouth with his right hand, while his left hand fiddled with Martin’s waistband and rubbed up his side and stomach. Encouraged by the hand tangled in his hair, he tried to swallow the whole dick until his nose was in Martin’s pubic hair. He ended up gagging a bit and had a tiny coughing fit, but at least he tried!

"Faster, Tad. That feels good." Suddenly Tad wondered about Martin cumming. Was he going to announce he would climax or just cum into Tad’s mouth in a surprise? Tad had never tasted another man’s cum, and was a little hesitant. He definitely did not like the taste of his own. "Hold on, Tad," Martin whimpered, his eyes closed tight as Tad looked up. Tad’s cock was throbbing in his boxer briefs, like Martin’s was in front of Tad’s face.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I’m good. Stand up for me." Getting up from his knees, Martin stood as well, and told Tad to sit down in the chair. This time Martin kneeled down in front of Tad, reaching out to undo his own pants and pull them down around his ankles.

Oh shit, he wants to blow me?

"Go ahead and run your hand through my hair," Martin joked, since he kept his hair no longer than an inch long. Tad rubbed his hair though, because it was short but soft, and it made him feel more confident. He looked down and drank in the image of a guy between his legs reaching into his blue boxer briefs, about to suck his dick. He wished that it would happen more often.

"You have a good nice cock," grinned Martin, taking it in one hand and jacking it some. His other hand pulled the underwear down to the jeans.

"Thanks," Tad blushed. He focused on his breathing after he noticed his chest expanding so much while looking down. He closed his eyes, keeping his hand on Martin’s head, and letting the warmth of his mouth take him to another world within his mind.

Tad’s first experience with oral sex definitely did not feel as good as this. No wonder everyone was always trying to get laid! It was great!

Tad tried moving his hips to match Martin’s movements, pushing on his head to help the timing. God, it felt amazing. He heard the quiet thumps of Martin wanking in front of him, which turned him on even more. Not even noticing any other part of his body, the only sensations his brain registered were on his dick.

"Push me onto your dick," Martin growled, to which Tad eagerly complied. Letting his hands drop to his sides, Martin let Tad do all the work, pushing his head onto his shaft and letting his dick slide in and out of his mouth at Tad’s discretion.

Martin absolutely loved when his partner took control. But he was always too embarrassed to admit it. Especially because the guys he picked up from bars were always looking to Martin to take control.

Tad’s heart was racing as he face-fucked his guy, letting out his pent up sexual frustration. He didn’t know when he would get another blowjob, so he’d might as well make the most out of this. Especially, when it looks like the other guy likes it.

But Martin pulled away from the blowjob and looked up at Tad. “I’m going to be really blunt here. I want to you fuck me. Is that alright?” he stated, standing up and holding out a hand for Tad to grab.

Kicking off his pants and the rest of his clothes, he led Tad back to his bedroom, where he closed the door behind them, and walked over to his nightstand.

"You a top or vers or what?" Martin wondered aloud, grabbing a condom and some lube from a drawer.

Standing mostly naked in this stranger’s apartment bedroom, Tad didn’t really know, since he had never been in a situation like this.

"A top, I guess."

Martin turned around and strolled back to Tad, throwing the supplies on the bed. “You wanna fuck me?”

"Yeah."

"Good. Come over here then," he replied, dragging Tad to his queen sized bed. "Scoot up and stay hard." Tad slowly pumped his cock next to Martin in the middle of the bed. He watched him unwrap the condom, find the right side up, and reach over for Tad’s own dick. It felt weird having someone put a condom on you. Actually it felt weird wearing a condom. He’d only ever done it once.

"You’re really hot," Tad blurted out, trying to fill the silence. Martin laughed, pulling the condom all the way down and reaching for the lube.

"Thanks, buddy, you’re not too bad yourself." He scooted back off the bed, getting up and heading towards the bathroom. "Give me a sec. Stay hard ‘cause I don’t want to put that condom back on you."

After a minute, Martin returned to the bed. “Lay down on your back.”

"Okay," Tad complied, letting Martin climb on top of him and straddle his hips. Martin’s hard dick point out towards Tad. He had never seen anything so erotic. It turned him on in so many ways.

Tad stayed speechless, however, as he watched Martin squeeze out lube on his fingers and reach over to prepare himself for sex. He was fingering himself, he said, so he could actually fit Tad’s dick.

This was the part you don’t see in porn, I guess.

"You ready?" Tad asked, trying to be polite.

"Yeah. Just let me run things, eh? I know you’re still new at this." Tad nodded, and laid back. Martin moved down until Tad’s dick rested against his ass. Tad closed his eyes, trying to envision everything that was going on from the feelings on his cock. Martin pushed down, trying to keep his anus open, letting Tad’s dick inside him.

- - - -

"You can just flush it," Martin offered from the bedroom. Tad tied his used condom up, glanced one more time at the cum inside, and flushed it down the toilet. His heart rate had only then begun to slow. Walking back into the room, he saw Martin up from the bed and looking through his drawer.

"I’m looking for my cigarettes," he stated, turning towards his dresser. Tad took a seat on the edge of the bed. "You want one?"

"No thanks," Tad replied.

"Shit, I think I left ‘em in the kitchen," he thought aloud, strolling out of the room. Not knowing if he was returning or not, Tad elected to wait a bit and see if Martin would return. Sitting in silence, naked, in someone else’s bedroom seemed awkward and strange, so Tad just grabbed his shirt and walked out to join Martin.

He was smoking out through an open window, turned away from Tad. He couldn’t help himself but stare at Martin’s ass. It was very sexy.

Martin turned to see Tad putting on his shirt. “The rest of your clothes are next to the chair,” he said.

"Right, thanks." Fully dressed and slipping his shoes on, Martin finished his cigarette and joined him, still naked, in the living room.

"This was fun," Martin grinned. "I’m glad you bought me that drink."

"I am too."

"We should definitely do this again."

"Yeah?"

"How about tomorrow night? I got another gig at the same bar as tonight. Meet me there around the same time," Martin explained. Tad lit up, excited to have sex a second night in a row. "Hand me your phone." Martin put his number in Tad’s phone, and texted himself so he had Tad’s number.

"So you’ll text me later?" Tad asked, standing up and taking his phone which Martin held out for him.

"Yeah, sure. See ya tomorrow night," Martin replied, getting up as well.

"Yeah. See ya." Not knowing what else to do, Tad nodded at Martin and headed for the door.

[by-conner]

"I am deliberate and afraid of nothing." - Audre Lorde

Every action I take is intentional. I do what I think is best. I own my life. I choose my path. I am me and I am deliberate.

There are challenges and obstacles before me. My choices have consequences and my actions have reactions. There will be long fights and lonely nights. There are things to fear in my life. But I am afraid of nothing.

I have two qualities that guide my life. They do not tell me where to go nor how to get there. But they remind me that I control where I go and I decide how I get there.

[by-conner]

"Hey, if you were, you know, dating someone," Graham asked from the top bunk, knowing Wil was still awake even late at night, "you would tell me, right? Because I kinda need to know if you might bring someone back here one night or something."

"Yeah man, I would tell you," Wil muttered, his mind shifting from the beginnings of a dream to memories of yesterday. Envisioned in his mind were just a couple moments in the middle of the afternoon, when the only ones in the lounge of the floor were Dylan and him. The blinds were opened so the light of the afternoon sun made the room radiate; or at least that's how it seemed.

It was only the third day Wil could look at Dylan, not just as a guy who lived down the hall or a fellow student of journalism, but as a romantic... well, love-interest or crush or whatever he was. He was a guy Wil really liked. And he knew Dylan kinda liked him, too.

Three days prior to that, Dylan joined Wil, Graham, and some other friends from the floor to a typical Saturday house party. It was BYOB, but the fun was provided- you know, cheesy shit like that. Well, after copious amounts of liquor and beer, Dylan and Wil found themselves dancing in the living room among very drunk upperclassmen. But that didn't really matter because all Wil cared about was how close Dylan was; and Dylan only cared about Wil's hand on his waist.

Finding the living room too crowded, the two snaked through the crowd of people populating the house and made their way to the backyard. There wasn't much to it, to be honest. Maybe ten feet of lawn then a huge fence then spanned the perimeter of the whole neighborhood. A group of people were already leaning against the fence and chatting, while two more smoked cigarettes around the corner of the house.

Wil grabbed Dylan's hand and led him around the other corner of the house. It was going to be the first time since the semester started that Wil could possibly even make out with someone, and he wasn't going to let this chance slip away. Plus, he thought Dylan was rather attractive and funny and cool.

Up against the siding of the house, Wil first felt Dylan's lips on his own. His hands felt another boy’s body for the first time in a long while. For a few moments there wasn’t a fear of the police showing up, an anxiety of grades or schoolwork, nor a queasiness from the booze, but rather, a warmth bubbling up from each graze of Dylan’s back by Wil’s finger, each breath that escaped his kissing, and each tingle Wil felt on his nose when it collided with Dylan’s.

“So what’s going on between you and Dylan?” Graham asked, peering over the bed. Wil thought a moment pondering the question, because he didn’t know the answer off the top of his head.

“Well, I mean, I don’t think we’re dating, so much…” Wil replied, choosing his words carefully.

“You fuck him yet?”

“What? No!”

“He fuck you?”

“Goodnight Graham,” Wil muttered, his face red with embarrassment.

“Is that a yes?”

“No, it’s not. We haven’t fucked. Good night.”

“Alright. Night.”

[by-conner]

Okay guys, I’m really sorry I haven’t posted anything in a while, but I’ve been working a lot so my last paycheck before I go to school is a big one.

Also, for the first time, I’m writing some fanfiction, so I’m spending my time on that.

Anyway, I’ll post when I write some of my normal stuff, like always. Thanks for being patient with me!

-Conner

[by-conner]

"Rainy Night In"

I used to dream, when no one was around, that one day- hopefully not far away- that one day I would be able to lie on my bed or sit on my couch, and when I needed someone to just sit next to, to just lounge on, or to just be with, I would have someone. I would have someone who wanted to do those things. With me. The first time it happened, though, to me, I didn’t realize it was happening. And I didn’t realize until late in the night afterwards, when I was alone with my thoughts. It dawned on me that when I wished I had someone with lie with, he showed up and lied with me. It was one of those rainy nights when your bed beckoned to sleep, when your comforters were extra cozy, and the air swirled around your head, dripping sleepiness into your eyes like the fabled Sandman. I can wait, my homework assured me. My rigidness makes you uncomfortable, my chair observed. The rain against my window was like a lullaby sung by Mother Nature; a song that only got more beautiful as the air soaked my eyes in tiredness. A tiredness which weighed them down until it was difficult to keep them open. Finally, I gave up my attempts to stay awake and drifted to my bed as if Mother Nature had picked me up like a real parent and dropped me into the squeaking twin size. But like most things I wanted: my want for them dropped considerably when they were mine. Like an hour after all the presents were opened on Christmas, like a hundred miles from the dealership in a new car, like after the second date with the hot girl with no personality, the spark and the desire was gone. Suddenly it was too quiet in my dorm. My roommate was gone, off to some golf game in Sacramento or San Antonio or somewhere. Maybe Salem. Right away I could tell my bed wasn’t the ultimate comfort it advertised itself as. The sleepiness didn’t close my eyes nor did the rain summon my slumber. It was just my bed on regular rainy night. My homework was incomplete and my brain was tuned on. Knock, knock, went the door. I sat up, quickly, with a confused look on my face. Who was there, pounding on my door like they were expected? Strolling to the door, I imagined all the possibilities and the different faces I could see as soon as I opened the door. Russell, the guy across the hall, looking for a buddy to smoke pot? Simon, the RA looking for the source of that odor that kinda smelled like marijuana? Lila, hoping to talk to me about her boyfriend troubles, since I was such a good listener and all? Austin. It was Austin. The tanned boy in a damp blue striped v-beck and jeans. The boy whose black hair dripped from the rain, flattened against his forehead. The boy whose smile crinkled his face and stirred my stomach in ways I didn’t imagine possible until I saw it. “Hey," he greeted, studying my face. “Sorry, did I wake you?" I assured him that he did not, and that he should come in and dry off. His hair pointed in most all the directions after he rubbed it dry with a towel. It made me chuckle. “Sorry, my roommate was really annoying tonight, and I just had to get away from him," he explained, joining me on the couch. I understood completely. “I thought maybe I could spend some time here, instead," he smiled, placing his hand on mine. It was at that point that I stopped knowing what to do. Do I hold his hand? Do I turn on the TV and offer him a snack? Do I say something back? Do I kiss him? “Where’s Eric?" Austin asked of my roommate. I explained his golf tournament and his obligation to be with his team no matter how far they traveled. “So it’s just us?" he smirked, turning to me. In response to my nod in the affirmative, he leaned forward, pushing to my back, and hovering on all fours above me. “Do you want to…" and he leaned down to whisper in my ear. “take advantage of this golden opportunity?" “Yeah," I replied, sealing my answer with a long, drawn out kiss. The one that said there’s more where that came from. An occasional raindrop mixed with the sweat on his forehead which fell to his chest. When he leaned forward to roughly crash his lips on mine, that salty rain mixture landed on my chest. Of course, it wasn’t the only bead of sweat that landed on me. Austin’s naked body in front of me seemed to glisten. Maybe it was just my glasses. They didn’t stay on very straight when my bed shook to the rhythm of Austin’s thrusts. I wondered if Austin was thinking about the sweat on my body as he looked down at me. Maybe he was looking at my crooked glasses. The room wasn’t too quiet after all. I was just a little lonely, I figured. But I wasn’t lonely when Austin was with me. The bed wasn’t any more comfortable and the air didn’t do anything. The rain could have stopped but I wouldn’t have noticed. Instead I lay on that twin size with someone. Someone I needed to lie next to and be with. With Austin’s one arm around my torso and my head on his other, I realized I needed nothing else to find my slumber. That desire, I wouldn’t realize until the sun was up the next morning, to feel his expanding chest on my back or his breath on my neck, or his feet intertwine with mine or his legs rest against mine, wouldn’t dissipate into the air. That spark didn’t leave. “Do you love me, Aaron?" Austin whispered, as if he was barely awake. “Yeah," I responded. I might argue that the spark never left. The want of someone next to me as I sleep wouldn’t ever escape me. Even after Austin did.

[by-conner]

I believe Bobby Kennedy’s words of great wisdom are needed in this exact moment. Please pay close attention and take his words to heart! "What we need in the United States is not division; what we need in the United States is not hatred; what we need in the United States is not violence and lawlessness, but is love and wisdom, and compassion toward one another, feeling of justice toward those who still suffer within our country, whether they be white or whether they be black."

[by-conner]

"Cruise Vacation"

The sun was beating down us, the passengers that dared the heat. I didn’t really mind it, though. And even if I did, I probably would have ended up here anyway. This cruise only lasted nine days, and I would be damned if I didn’t get in as much as possible. That meant sitting poolside with a cold drink, enjoying the sounds of the sea all around the boat, as well as the people around me. Before breakfast my mom, dad, and older sister went to play a round of mini golf. It wasn’t that hot yet and no one was there that early, so it was a fun thing to do in the morning. But the sun rose in the sky, everyone else retreated to the indoors, to a comedy club or shopping or something. I decided now would be the perfect time to do something I’ve been waiting to do the whole trip. While I knew my family would be gone for hours, this afternoon was a prime opportunity to find a hot guy to suck me off. Ok, so no one knows I want it to be a guy. Especially not my girlfriend. No, Carolyn would probably get really mad if she found out I was doing this. But I mean, her skills- how shall I say- in the bedroom are not spectacular. Sure she’s hot and sexy and I really like spending time with her, but she has no experience. Certainly, I’ve let her take every opportunity to practice, but I’ve often had to close my eyes and imagine someone else as I finished the job for her. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate her trying, but now that I’m thousands of miles away from any land, on a ship full of people I will never see again, I’m going to take advantage of some fine booty. Oh, I guess you should know that I’m bisexual, but definitely not out. Most of the time my girlfriend will be enough to satisfy whatever hormonal urge I have, but lately… I don’t know, I’ve been looking to mix it up. I wanna find a guy. Maybe I’ll actually blow him. I’ve been with guys before, sure, but I’ve always been a little hesitant about oral. Plus usually going straight to fucking warrants no complaints from the boy. This time, though, will be different. There won’t be a little voice in the back of my head telling me to cut it and run before he tells the whole world I like dudes as well as chicks. I won’t have to jump at every creak in the floor while some guy is sucking my dick. Fuck, man, I’m tired of waiting. Where’s all the gay boys at? I will admit, in my opinion I think guys are better at giving head, anyway. They know the equipment, you know? I was lying on the deck chair in just my blue swim trunks. But not those big loose kind, it’s like a speedo but just a smidge longer. It’s basically underwear you wear in a pool. Anyway, I tried to find what a guy would find attractive. So far, I’ve gotten looks from a couple girls, but nothing else. For a while, though, I was on my back to even out my tan, so I didn’t really catch anyone looking. But I bet I got plenty of glances at my fine ass. Alright, I’m wasting time now. I’ve only got so long until Stella returns to the room we’re sharing. Or my parents decide to peek in just to “see how things are going." I haven’t cum since the night before we left on the cruise, so about four days ago. Believing I would actually someone, I’ve been saving my orgasms for the special occasion. Looks like my incredible self control is for naught. Oh well. And I figured people would be more willing to hook up if they knew we wouldn’t run into each other again… - - - - “Hey," a voice said next to me. A little while ago I decided to move to the pool to get my feet wet. I was sitting on the edge of the pool when a guy appeared next to me. Looking up to see him, the first thing that struck me was his cute little beard on his chin. And the next thing was his torso- this guy was fit. “You hanging all by yourself?" he joked. Oh wow, he had an accent! It sounded kinda Southern. “Yeah," I grinned to tease back. “I ditched my family some time ago." “Well, if you’re bored or just lonely, you can come play with ping-pong with me." He gestured to a few ping-pong tables across the deck. Oh yeah. I knew someone would notice me! And he isn’t half-bad looking. “Sure," I said, standing up and following him to the tables. “I’m Jackson, by the way," he mentioned as we strolled along. Jackson was so totally into me. I could tell. And I was liking him a little, too. “Conrad." “Nice to meet’cha, Conrad." “Likewise," I replied as we reached the ping-pong tables. I grabbed a paddle that lying on one side and Jackson picked up another. He bounced the ball a couple times. “Have you ever played?" “Yeah, of course. I’m just not very good." “Nah, that’s alright. I’m not that great, either." He tossed the ping-pong ball in the air and served it. And when it landed on my side, I missed it completely and had to run a couple feet to grab it before it rolled too far. “That’s reassuring," I mumbled to myself. “Tell you what, let’s have a little friendly bet. If I win this match, you have to hang out with me and do whatever I wanna do. And if you win, I’ll hang with you and do whatever you wanna do. Deal?" “Deal." Oh dude, I’m so sure he’s going to take me back to his room. I know if somehow I win, I gonna ask him to mine. Or his. Or whatever is easier. - - - - Ok, to cut out some long and embarrassing details, I’ll just say that I lost. But only by one or two or ten points. I don’t think it was that bad. Well, after the game, Jackson reminded me that I was then obligated to chill with him for a while. He told me to meet in front of his cabin in ten minutes, and that I should get dressed in more than just my swim suit. So I did and now I’m waiting in front of his cabin. Maybe it was the wrong one? No, he definitely said this one. Whatever the case, I would soon be actually hanging out with him, instead of, you know, “hanging out." That’s alright, though. Jackson seems like a totally cool dude. “Hey Conrad," his head appeared from the door’s threshold. “Come check this out!" He was all giddy and excited. “What is it?" I asked while stepping into the room. It was bigger than my cabin and everything looked kinda nicer, too. He must be rich or something. “There’s dolphins out there!" He pointed at the glass window on the wall. I peeked out and saw nothing. “Keep looking," he assured me. Then, a few seconds later, I saw the black backs of dolphins poking through the surface of the water. I counted three total. Awesome. “So Conrad," Jackson said, sitting down on his bed. “Tell me a little about yourself. Got a girlfriend back home?" Okay. This was the make or break moment. Things can go two ways: a) I flirt with him and he takes it well and we fuck or b) I flirt with him and he doesn’t take it well and we never see each other again. Alrighty then. “Nah, I just broke up with my boyfriend a couple weeks ago," I lied. I found some time ago that’s it’s easier to tell gay guys I’m also gay than to tell them I’m bi. I don’t know, it’s like they’re more comfortable and are more willing to do stuff. “Oh I’m sorry. I don’t really have anyone either." It worked, he is totally leading this conversation towards sex. “Being with someone else definitely has its advantages over being by yourself." “I know what you mean. And I was hoping this cruise would help me forget it all and just cut loose and relax." “I can help you," he offered, a smirk growing on his face. Yeah, reel it in, Conrad. Real gently. “How so?" I barely stopped myself from winking out right and just jumping on top of him. “I’m a masseur, kind of." “Really?" A massage would be fucking great. And afterwards… oh yeah. “Here, let me show you."

[by-conner]

I suddenly remembered that story meep-beep and I were supposed to write... but I never did anything for.

Oops.

[by-conner]

Hope you guys like the new Table of Contents layout!

[by-conner]

Best day in a long time

I got a new car today! So the guy selling it was willing to make it super cheap for someone he thought "deserved" it, and he was impressed by my academic feats and gave it to me for free! Then I got new clothes and sunglasses. I got in a quick shift at work so I got some money on my paycheck. And I'm gonna end it with my friends and fireworks. Ciao!

[by-conner]

As much as I love writing,

fuck I wish I could draw

[by-conner]

So I was walking down the street with my friends, and for some reason my friend Scott grabbed my hand and then Elliot grabbed my other one and my other friends joined in and we had a five person line of hand holding.

It was so fucking great, haha. Plus I got to experience what walking down the street holding Elliot's hand was like. Wish I could do it more!

[by-conner]