Date: Tue, 25 May 2004 09:58:27 -0700 (PDT) From: chip ster Subject: weekend-in-houston-afterthoughts-and-confessions (REVISED) Weekend In Houston - Afterthoughts and Confessions By chipster071053@yahoo.com Prelude: To those of you who haven't read the entire "Weekend In Houston" story, I suggest you do that right now. Otherwise, this isn't going to make a lot of sense to you. All of the obligatory cautions and warnings that appear in that story apply here as well. Now, to those of you who read the story, these are some follow-up thoughts on the story made in light of some sad news I received. My friend Don, about whom this story revolved, just passed away. He had a heart attach while teaching and fell dead in the classroom in front of his shocked students. Sad as it seems, I know he died while doing something he loved. He was in his late 40's and much too young, and much too fit for something like this to happen. I grieve his passing. To the best of my knowledge, Don never told anyone other than those involved, about what had happened that weekend, nor do I know if he was aware that I wrote this story about it. But the time has come for some closure on it, and so I offer some afterthoughts. I've heard from several people regarding this story. One was a professor who guessed which college I was writing about, then told me that he had taught there, and even tried to guess if he'd had my friend Don in his classes (he hadn't). He has helped me with physical details of the buildings and campus that I have forgotten over 30 years, so that if I ever want to revise the story I can add to the descriptions of where it all happened. Another was from a student who guessed which school it was and says he's tried to reenact parts of the story by jacking off in a shower stall in the very dorm where my story happened, with the curtain open, while other students walked by. He said a few stopped for a moment, but nobody joined him. He told me he was going to try again, but I haven't heard from him since. I'm guessing either he chickened out or got arrested (grin). Now for two confessions. First, there's a loose end to the story that I purposely eluded to while writing, wondering if anyone would catch it. A few did, and I was glad to share the story about that loose end with them. Now that Don has passed on, I feel the need to share it with everyone else who's read the story, because it explains Don a little bit more and maybe even why we never let that part of our relationship move to the next level. In the story, at the end of Chapter 3, I wrote: "After a few minutes, Sara struggled to stand, and told us to just lie there. She reached around the bed and pulled out a bag I had not noticed there before. She took a sun dress out and pulled it on over her head, then turned and picked up an envelope from Don's desk and put it into the bag along with her tank top, jeans and what was left of her underwear." And there it is, the loose end. The envelope. A few people asked me what that was about, and here's how Don explained it to me several months later at my wedding. The envelope contained $500 in cash. Sara was a call girl, part of what Don referred to as a loosely organized sorority of girls who were working their way through college on their backs. Don was an insecure college freshman who wanted to avoid making any mistakes with women, so he hired her to teach him not only how to have great sex, but how to please a woman. They met several times over the course of the five or six months he'd known her, regularly paying her for sex sessions either at her place or in a motel where they occasionally spent weekends together. The idea of having sex with another guy was one she brought up originally. She was thinking more of having two men for her, but Don's curiosity got the best of him and he speculated about what it would be like to have sex with another man. Sara had suggested a few people she knew would be willing to participate in a three-way, but Don wasn't sure he wanted to have a guy in town that he'd recognize passing on the street. She suggested perhaps someone he knew and could trust. How he decided on me, I'm not sure. We had been close friends in high school, and he even dated the girl I would eventually marry, but what made him think I would be interested in sharing his bed, he never explained, no matter how much I pushed the issue. What happened when I arrived in Houston has already been related, and how we wound up together has been explained in great detail in the story, but finding out later that he had paid Sara to bring us together is still an exciting memory. Don kept meeting Sara until about the middle of his sophomore year when she told him it was time for him to move on. I know Don squired several young women during the rest of his college days and eventually found the love of his life after he retired from active duty in the Navy. To the best of my knowledge, Don never had sex with another guy, and neither have I. Which brings me to my second confession. I'm a married guy now, happy with my wife and blessed with three wonderful children. But the thoughts of that weekend come back to me in my dreams, in my fantasies. After 30 years, I want to relive that weekend, or at least the parts with Don, especially now that the hope of doing it with him is gone. I'd love to be able to take a young man into my arms and have passionate sex, to explore each other's bodies and to teach each other about the art of making love to another man. In my wildest fantasies, I dream of Don and I together again, the way it could have been the night before my wedding, sharing a hotel room, sharing a bed together, fucking our brains out for one more time. And even though I've aged a number of years since then, I still remember Don exactly the way he was then. A hot sandy-haired 19-year-old with a slender, practically hairless body, willing to give pleasure, willing to try new things, willing to take my cock and let me have his. I yearn for his killer smile and the wink he would give me that could make me cum. Maybe someday I'll get lucky enough to find someone like that. But until that time, I have Don in my memories, and now only in my memories. I will miss him. ---- You can reach the author at chipster071053@yahoo.com.