Wednesday, July 4, 2007

Brad (Part I)

Less than a month after I graduated from high school, my parents separated. Even though growing up I occasionally witnessed fights between them, it was still a real shock the day I came home to find that my mom had moved out. I learned some time later that she'd simply been waiting for the day that her last child was out of school and grown to pack her bags and leave. She didn't waste any time.

When my mom left my father, she also left the church that our family had attended for my entire life and joined a small Baptist church on the other side of town. Although she wasn't a religious zealot or anything, like my father, she did like to attend regular Sunday services.
Those first few months alone were pretty difficult for my mom, so when she asked me to go with her to the new church even though I hadn't been to church in a couple years, well what could I do? It was my mom.

As a side note, I went a little wild during my senior year in high school, partying, and often staying out all night with my best friend, KC. Not only were we partying but during the final few months prior to graduation, I had also started sucking his dick. I think my mom somehow sensed that there was something going on between KC and me, which I have always suspected, is the real reason she asked me to attend church with her. Smile.

When I say the church was small, that's actually overstating it. It wasn't small, it was tiny. There were only around twenty or thirty families in the entire congregation and most them were well into their golden years. When I finally agreed to go with her, mom was thrilled and said, "They have a wonderful youth group." The youth group turned out to be comprised of around a dozen or so kids, between the ages of sixteen and nineteen (and mostly chicks) who were led by a young, but rather dull, youth pastor by the name of Mr. Mick, and his equally dull wife, Ms. Janine. I wanted to die. Smile.

During my first Sunday visit, I was ushered into the small room (in the basement) where the group met each week, which had a big, yellow, plastic banner with the words 'Youth for Christ' in large block letters hung on one wall and introduced by a beaming Mr. Mick to my fellow 'youths.' They looked about as thrilled as I felt. The only person who really made a lasting impression on me that day was an older dude who sat, slouched on a chair, in a far corner. He looked to be in his early twenties, had a head full of unruly, wavy brown hair, dark eyes, a solid build, and struck me as someone who'd rather be anywhere else in the entire world at that moment than sitting in that room. When Mr. Mick pointed a finger at him and told me his name, the dude half raised one hand, and, in a rather bored tone, said, "Howdy."His name was Brad.

That first Sunday goes down in my book, to this day, as the single most boring couple hours of my entire life. When I was finally free of that drab little group of people, I had a serious need to go someplace and listen to loud, Satan inspired, heavy metal. Smile.

I spent the entire week that followed trying to come up with a way out of returning to that church. To my absolute horror, at some point during the previous Sunday's services, my mom had noticed several girls making eyes at me. She was thrilled and couldn't wait for next Sunday to arrive. I began looking for painless ways to kill myself. Smile.

When I walked into the little room with the big, yellow, plastic banner that Sunday, I was gritting my teeth. They were all there again, looking bored and disinterested as they waited for Mr. Mick to arrive and the only person who even acknowledged me was a chick named Sandy. She was eighteen years old (same age as me) and the only 'youth' in the group who was upbeat, outgoing, and openly friendly. She talked very fast, giggled a lot, and I ended up sitting next to her. Brad slouched in the same chair as before, in the same corner, didn't say 'howdy' that day, but gave me a brief look that fell somewhere between sizing me up and checking me out. It wasn't sexual but struck me more as his taking a quick mental inventory of what equipment I had brought with me to the game. It suddenly occurred to me, I was the visiting team. The competition. I was contemplating that thought when Mr. Mick and Ms. Janine arrived, several minutes later. After our little youth service, Mr. Mick brought up the subject of organizing a car wash for the following weekend, to help raise money for some sort of teen outing for the group. Oh, joy. Smile.

Sure enough, despite having attempted to get out of it, the following Saturday found me in the church parking lot, holding a large, wet sponge, waiting for the kids who were standing along the street, holding up signs that announced our car wash, to wave down another victim. During a playful water fight, the signs had accidentally been hit with the hose and were quickly becoming illegible, so Mr. Mick asked Brad and a chick named Meg to go inside and make new ones. When a large pickup with a topper pulled in for a quick wash, Mr. Mick, beaming as always, looked at me and said, "Run and get Brad and Meg. We're gonna need their help with this one! "He was just too damned cheerful. Glad to be free of my sponge for a few minutes, I crossed the parking lot and slipped into the church through a side entrance. It was completely empty (and quiet) as I passed through the rear lobby and hit the stairs. Reaching the basement, I walked down the narrow hallway, which had doors leading to various Sunday school classrooms along each side, until I reached the big yellow banner room. The door was closed, but the light was on, so I didn't think twice before turning the knob. Boy, did I get a surprise.

There was a large folding table at the front of the room, with several pieces of poster board and a number of markers on it and, on the floor beside it, Brad was fucking Meg. His pants were pushed down just enough to show his ass, and Meg's skinny little legs were sticking out on either side of him (she was only around seventeen years old,) bouncing in the air as Brad humped his bone into her. Damn! My eyes locked on his ass, pumping back and forth, for a split second before his head spun around and he growled, "Man... get the fuck outta here."

Shocked, I stammered "sorry" and quickly backed out of the room and closed the door. Standing in the hallway, I didn't know what to do. I couldn't return to the parking lot without them so I walked halfway down the hall and leaned against the wall to wait. It was only a couple minutes before the door opened and Brad stepped into the hallway looking for me. Coming down the hall to join me, with his hands jammed into his pants pockets, I couldn't help but notice the hard lump of dick standing up in his jeans. Meg remained out of sight as he approached me, trying to act calm and casual, smiled a rather conspiratorial smile and said, "You caught me gettin' a little action." Smile broadening, he motioned towards the room with his head and quickly added, "You wanna get in on it?" Terrified that Mr. Mick would show up to see what was taking so long, I stammered, "No, that's okay." Glancing over my shoulder at the stairs for a moment, I added, "They sent me to get you guys." The smiled disappeared from his face and a brief look of fear flashed across it for a second before he said, "Yeah. We should probably get back." He looked me dead in the eyes for a moment, then stammered a little himself as he said, "You're not gonna say anything... are you?" I quickly shook my head and answered, "no." A look of relief swept over his face as he began backing down the hall and said, "Thanks." Nodding towards the stairs, he added, "Go ahead. We'll be there in a minute. "He started to turn, then stopped and said, "Uh, sorry about what I said earlier when you came in."

Before turning to continue down the hall, I saw his eyes drop to look at my crotch for a split second, then he turned and quickly disappeared into the room. At that point, I got the hell out of there. Since this is getting pretty long, I'm going to break it down. Consider this the end of two parts. Smile.

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