Queer bent bastard

In fact, the whole evening and night were amazing. It was almost three in the morning by the time Kyle dropped me off at home; more like three-thirty by the time we finished saying good night. I was walking on cloud nine as I glanced at my ring, grinned, and made my way up the front steps. Just as I was about to unlock the door, I noticed a slight movement to my right and realized someone was standing there, leaning against the railing. I froze for a second and I could feel the adrenalin rush. You don’t expect someone to be standing on your front step at three-thirty in the morning. Bracing myself, I slowly turned to see who it was. It was Jason.

He didn’t say a word. He just extended his hand towards me, palm up. I glanced at it. Lying on the palm of his hand was a tiny box. My glance became a stare that lasted at least a minute. He didn’t move and I didn’t move. He didn’t say anything and I didn’t say anything, although I did hear a tiny sniffle. When I glanced at his face, I could see his tears as they reflected the light from the streetlight. Finally, I slowly reached out and took the box from his hand. I held it and looked at it for, again, at least a minute. Finally, I decided to open it. I slowly peeled the paper away from it. Then, I slowly opened it and lifted off the little piece of padding. Inside was a thin black cord with a simple circular pendant.