Turning Eighteen, Part Sixteen

We got to the ‘condom talk’ that night. I knew that Mr. Mendes was going to be a hard-ass about that—and I was right.I couldn’t see the point. I mean, I was technically a virgin. I’d never gotten any further with a guy than mutual masturbation. (And I sure as hell never touched a woman.) And Mr. Mendes is the careful type—he probably always used condoms before.But he was strict about this. He wanted us to use them even for going down on each other. I rolled my eyes but I finally agreed. I wasn't going to get anywhere if I didn't. But I got him to promise that we could revisit the question later—after we’d been tested and stuff.It was still a good night. He undressed me slow and then pushed me down onto our bed so that I was lying naked on my back. And then he stroked my dick and teased my balls with his fingers until I was painfully hard. That’s when he took the condom out and sort of massaged it onto me, if that makes sense.I closed my eyes as he brought his mouth down on me. I could feel him even through the fucking condom. Oh God—I had to grip his shoulders. I wanted him to go faster and harder but he kept teasing me instead. Then he developed this slow, deep rhythm that just about finished me. When I came it was like I was releasing every pent-up feeling I’d ever had.I tried to do all the same for him, but it was harder than I thought. I couldn’t even get the frigging condom on him the right way. We both laughed at that, though, so it turned out ok. I just had to get a new condom from the box and start over.I guess I did something right, because he sure seemed to like it as I pumped him with my hand—slow and steady, just like he taught me—and suckled his balls. (I was guessing it was safe enough to do that.) And he looked ecstatic when he came.Once we were cleaned up a little he pulled me to him and we nestled against each other. But I wasn’t about to let him just drift off on me. Not without another talk.“When are we going to have intercourse?” I demanded. "I want you to fuck me."He smiled at me and started stroking my hair. “Is that important to you?” he asked.I frowned at that. I’d heard that some gay guys—even long term couples—didn’t have intercourse, just out of preference. Whatever. But I’d never tried it and I wanted to know what I was missing. I wanted to feel Mr. Mendes inside me.But what if he was one of those gay guys who just didn’t do that?“Don’t you want to have intercourse?” I asked.He looked at me for a long moment. “Yeah,” he admitted. “But it’s complicated. There’s some feeling in Conservative Judaism that a committed homosexual relationship is sort of acceptable, except for that one act between two men.”I stared at him. I kept forgetting that religion actually mattered to him. He really believed in God and all that stuff. “That’s what your church—I mean, your synagogue—says?”He sat up and grinned down at me. “Well, that’s one opinion. Our Law Committee actually issued three separate statements on the issue so that both majority and minority opinions would be respected. But that’s the gist of one of them.”“Is that what you think?” I demanded.He shrugged. “I’m not sure, to tell the truth. Probably not—maybe this is one issue, like intermarriage, that Reform Judaism has a better handle on. I don’t think they put any such restrictions on a homosexual marriage.”I sat up too so that I could look him in the eye. “What do you mean, intermarriage?”He looked surprised by the question. “Marriage between a Jew and a gentile,” he said. “Reform Judaism allows it; Conservative and Orthodox don’t.”I thought that over. “So two guys can get married in your synagogue only if they’re both Jewish? That’s not fucking fair.”He narrowed his eyes at me. “Your Church never looked fondly on intermarriage either,” he told me. “They didn’t outright forbid it, but it’s only since Vatican II that it’s become acceptable for a Catholic to marry a non-Catholic. And they don’t marry gays at all.”I didn’t say anything back to that. I couldn’t—I had no idea what the Catholic Church allowed or didn’t allow. Well, I knew that they didn’t let gays marry, but I didn’t know much else. I never went to Mass after I made Holy Communion. I was never even confirmed.I stared down at the covers. “What happens if we want to get married someday? Do we just get a civil union and forget about the religious stuff?” (That’s what I would have wanted—but I had a feeling he’d need some kind of religious ceremony.)He shrugged. “That’s one option. There are others too. But we can cross that bridge when we come to it.”I rolled my eyes again. “I want to know now. I hate putting things off.”He smiled at me. I think he was amused by my impatience. “Don’t you think we’re moving fast enough as it is without discussing marriage?” he asked.“Yeah,” I admitted. “But I’d still like to know. What other options?”He sighed. “I don’t think the Catholic Church is anywhere near allowing gay marriage, so that’s out. We could get married in a Reform synagogue. Or—well, you could convert to Judaism, in which case we could get married in my synagogue.”I panicked at that. He wanted me to convert? “I can’t learn all that Hebrew stuff!” I told him.He reached out and tousled my hair. “No one would expect you to become a Hebrew scholar, Jason. But don’t worry about it. That was only one possibility. We’ve got plenty more.”He kissed me then—one of those long, slow kisses. Then he pulled me up against him.“I love you as you are, Jason,” he whispered as he kissed the side of my face. “In an ideal world, I suppose I’d want to end up with a Jewish partner. I’d like someone to share Shabbat dinners with—and someone to share the holidays with. But you can do that without converting.”I gave him a half smile. “At least I’m already circumcised.” That’s one of the few things I knew about Judaism—guys have to be circumcised.He laughed and pulled me even closer. “Yeah,” he said. “You’ll be glad for that if you ever do decide to convert.”I grinned, feeling a little more comfortable about the whole thing. “But it’s not a deal-breaker, right?” I asked. “I mean, you won’t leave me if I don’t convert.”“It’s not a deal breaker,” he agreed.I nodded and nestled up against him again. Then I thought about intercourse again—I couldn't keep my mind off it, I guess. God, I wanted it bad.But it could wait a little longer, I decided. It didn’t have to be tonight. I wanted Mr. Mendes to be sure about it—I could tell he had some issues, so I didn’t want to pressure him. So I just shut my eyes as we snuggled under the covers and fell straight asleep.