I can clearly recall the very first time I met Brandon. How could I not remember every detail of meeting the most sublimely beautiful boy I had ever laid eyes on. Or would ever lay eyes on. Admittedly, that is quite a statement for one that has met or seen many incredibly cute or handsome men and boys, but it is by no means an exaggeration or an overstatement. Brandon was and is that beautiful. And, at barely nineteen, he looked more like a sixteen year old than most sixteen year olds.
The meeting was the result of my ex-boyfriend’s request to come by and bring a friend to use the spa. Kenny had been dating a twenties-something man who worked at the Screen Actors Guild and had been invited to accompany him to an industry party. He recounted that, as he stood looking around the room, the most incredibly gorgeous young guy had entered the room and he had been unable to take his eyes off of the new arrival. Over the course of the evening, they had migrated toward each other, as the only nineteen year olds at the party, and had spent a considerable time talking, comparing notes and becoming friends. The new arrival was Brandon.
Initially, Kenny had an enormous crush on Brandon because he was so incredible looking. I could even see the shine in his eyes when first he had told me about this new friend. But over time they became more like brothers since each of them were actually attracted to guys older than themselves. I don’t doubt, however, that they engaged in some manner of sexual play at one time or another but I suspect it was more born of need and lust than a romantic love.
I had discounted expectations about Brandon as I had seen some of the guys that Kenny had thought were very attractive and had found nothing attractive about them. Primarily, the difference was because we had very different tastes. I had always been attracted to boys from about seventeen to twenty-one years of age, with the infrequent exception for those who were older and kept themselves in good shape. Lately my tastes had been advancing to the point that I was less interested in seventeen year olds and more interested in those from about eighteen up to twenty-nine. I’m not sure what the catalyst for this change was but had felt it was because I was more interested in a mature, long term relationship whose achievement was doubtful with someone in their teens.
I was working at my computer in my second bedroom, which I had set up as a home office, when I heard the deadbolt on the front door click and the door open. I walked out to the hall and saw Kenny coming in the door. But, what stopped my heart was the boy coming in behind him. Of course, my heart didn’t remain silent for long. Within seconds it was pounding furiously and leaving me gasping for air as it utilized oxygen faster than I could breathe it in.
I headed down the hall toward the front door and as I neared, Brandon saw me and his face lit up with a smile that would stop traffic. It was blinding. His teeth were perfect, his perfect lips spread wide to allow the perfect whiteness of his teeth to shine like headlights in your eyes on a dark, lonely road. He was one of those rare individuals that, upon entering a room, forever changed the entire atmosphere of the room. In short, he was spectacular.
I recall shaking hands as Kenny introduced us, and looking at him like a lovesick puppy as I tried to memorize everything about him. He had a magnificent face, with high cheekbones, straight nose and an angular jaw. He was very slim but not skinny. His hair was pitch black, styled in the spiky fashion of the day and had the sheen of the styling gel he had used. His eyebrows were thin, his eyelashes very long and his complexion tanned and flawless. But what captivated me instantly were his blue eyes. The bluest blue I had ever seen, and when set against his tan and black hair, his eyes just reached out and grabbed you and wouldn’t let you go.
Brandon stood about five feet eleven inches in height, slim and toned, without much hint of musculature. He had been a swimmer in high school and was extremely conscious of his weight and appearance. Kenny would later tell me that he had suspected Brandon of using the finger-in-the-throat routine to empty his stomach after a meal in order to assure he maintained his weight where he wanted it.
We sat in the living room to talk and get acquainted and I learned that Brandon was a fledgling professional model. Although just getting started, he had a top agency representing him and had already taken part in some modeling shoots, including one for Coca-Cola, one for 16 Magazine and a few others. I felt certain that he would be a super-model within a year or two. Who could possibly resist his look. However, because he was just getting started and could not command ‘big bucks’ at the time, his day job was as a box-boy at a chain supermarket. And it was across the street from my office.
As we talked, I got to know Brandon a bit better and began to like him as a person, without consideration for his beauty. He was easy going and mellow, had a phenomenal sense of humor with an easy laugh and a constant smile, and a very tender heart that was clearly displayed whenever he mentioned his family. He lived with a cousin locally and was treated extremely badly by his cousin’s wife. He had a boyfriend who lived about 80 miles south and was quite well to do, but the boyfriend was inconsiderate, demeaning and demanding, and expected Brandon to always come to his home, never offering to help with money for gas. Yet, Brandon remained loyal to these abusers in his life.
Before long, Brandon reached in a little satchel he carried and pulled out a baggy of marijuana, asking if I would mind if he and Kenny smoked a joint. Any kind of drugs had always made me nervous and my last foray into the use of marijuana had been over twenty years prior, yet I agreed because I did not want to appear to be a wet blanket on the party. I finally even consented to taking a couple of hits, hoping it might help me to relax.
After we had finished a joint, we decided to hit the spa and headed to change. I went to my bedroom and Kenny and Brandon went to the second bedroom. I gathered towels from the closet as I came out of my room, and headed for the kitchen to get a glass of water. The marijuana had not relaxed me in the least and I was still as jittery as ever. It was a life long condition that whenever I was around someone who was spectacularly attractive, I always became extremely nervous and agitated, and this was no exception.
Brandon was first to come out of the back bedroom and I stood, looking at him in awe, as he came down the hall. He was wearing only a pair of red shorts, revealing a perfectly smooth upper body, and slim, perfectly shaped legs, all of which were the same bronzed tan as I had seen on his face and arms when he arrived. He was a vision. He was an oasis in the desert for a man dying of thirst. He had no comparison.
I was so caught up by the sight of him that I almost missed his comment to me. He tapped at the front of his shorts with his fingers and looked at me, almost teasingly. “I always get this way when I put on a swim suit.” I wasn’t certain I knew what he was talking about and would only later realize that he had been attempting to justify the bulge of an erection laying up over his abdomen. Perhaps it was truly the swim suit or just maybe he and Kenny had taken a moment to fool around a little as they were changing.
We walked out to the spa and turned on the jets, Kenny and I getting into the warm water to relax and enjoy the experience. Brandon sat on the edge, facing sideways to the spa and directly across from where I sat in the water. The leg closest to me was over the edge with his foot dangling in the water, the far leg pulled up, bent at the knee. He was leaning back on his arms and his head was thrown back so that, had his eyes been open, he would have been looking at the stars in the night sky. He looked very much like one of those famous Greek statues of beautiful young boys, relaxing, and without a care in the world, their beauty on display for all the world to see.
I was doing my utmost to be discrete. My eyes would bore holes in Brandon for a time, then I would look away. I would talk to Kenny for a time and focus on him, and then my attention would return to Brandon who continued to sit, posed like a statue, just a few feet across the spa from me. I tried sitting low in the water and leaning back, closing my eyes to the point that I was looking out through small slits and, hopefully, not terribly obvious. My lust factor was off the charts but, fortunately or unfortunately, I had always had a tremendous amount of self control - and an enormous fear of rejection. Clearly, where Brandon was concerned, I was out of my depth, in over my head, and lacked any chance under heaven of ever attracting his attention. So, I contented myself with just enjoying the opportunity to look at him and appreciate his beauty, and be thankful for the opportunity that he so graciously gave me.
But I couldn’t help wondering - wanting to see - what was hidden by those red shorts.
It was after eleven at night when Kenny and Brandon finally left to go to their respective homes. Brandon lived close to my office, about twenty minutes away, while Kenny lived another twenty minutes beyond that.
As Kenny worked for me - and had been working for me for about a year - I was anxious to find out if Brandon had made any comment to him about me. I couldn’t have cared less if it made me seem like a girl in high school wanting the scoop on her latest heart throb from her friends. I wanted to know. Unfortunately, I had not been a topic of conversation on the drive home. It only served to reinforce what I had known the previous night. I was out of my league and without a prayer, so I put Brandon out of my mind and exercised my famous self control to no longer think about him and drive myself insane. I’d already demonstrated more than enough insanity over the past year since Kenny and I had split up and I didn’t want to go down that path again.
A few weeks later, one of my employees gave notice of leaving. Kenny was employed as a file clerk but had been training for more responsibility for a few months and shown an excellent aptitude for the position and I decided to promote him to fill that opening. I was debating what to do about the file clerk opening when Kenny approached me.
“Why don’t you hire Brandon for the file clerk? He needs a better job than that minimum wage job at the market and it would be fun to have him around.”
I felt a very perceptible jolt run through my body at the suggestion, but then common sense kicked in. I was certain that having Brandon and Kenny together would mean there would be little work getting done. Also, I feared having the distraction of Brandon around the office and feared even more that I might not control myself appropriately in the employer-employee setting. But the attraction was still there so I chose to make no decision and left the file clerk position vacant for a time.
Finally, noting that Kenny was getting behind in his work because of having to do double duty and feeling guilty over not having gotten a clerk to assist him, I called him into my office.
“Why don’t you talk to Brandon and see if he would be interested in the file clerk position?”
“Okay. I’ll ask him next time I see him. I don’t know if he’ll be interested, though.”
I felt a sense of both regret and relief wash over me at the same time. Relief that I might not have to be on constant guard around someone that could be so dangerous for my self control and morale, yet regret that I might not have the opportunity to see Brandon each and every day of the work week and dream about what could be. Of course, when I realized what it was I was wishing and hoping for, I also realized I had officially become an old man who dreamed of what would never be.
A week passed and I had heard nothing back from Kenny. I asked him if he had seen or talked to Brandon and he said he hadn’t. I needed to make a decision and I wasn’t ready to hire one of the applicants only to later find out that Brandon wanted the job. As it was close to lunch, I grabbed my wallet and headed out the door and over to the market for the overt purpose of getting a sandwich and a Coke. The covert reason was a hope that I might run into Brandon and be able to mention the job to him.
I walked slowly through the store, got the few items I had pretended to come for, then kept walking about hoping to encounter Brandon. After several furtive passes through the store, I headed toward the checkout counters, walking from one end to the other, checking to see if Brandon was bagging groceries at one of the stands and intending to go to whichever stand he was at. Unfortunately, I didn’t see him at any of them.
As I moved up in the line to the cashier, my attention suddenly landed on Brandon, at the next counter behind me. He was looking directly at me, those bluer than blue eyes and blinding smile daring me to try and ignore him. I jerked in surprise, having just reconciled myself to a wasted trip to the market, and smiled back at him and greeted him.
The checker at my counter looked up, obviously curious about the customer who knew one of the box boys. Normally, that would have caused me tremendous embarrassment but at this moment, those eyes and smile were the only thing I was aware of in the whole world.
I was pleased that he had remembered my name. But, that was Brian. He was polite to a fault and was never dismissive of people, and made a genuine attempt to remember peoples names and to treat them as though they were important to him. He was one of those rare young people who were not so completely wrapped up in themselves that they failed to treat others in the way they expected to be treated themselves. It was especially refreshing given his beauty because most young men with his physical attributes would be so conceited and self absorbed that they would not even lower themselves to speak to a forty-something old man.
“Did Kenny talk to you about the job opening I have?”
“I have an opening at the office, working with Kenny, that he suggested I might consider you for. If you would be interested, give me a call and we can schedule an appointment to talk about it.” I handed him my business card.
I now became aware that several people were watching this exchange and became self conscious, so I turned back to my counter and paid for my purchases. As I left, Brandon flashed me another big smile and I smiled at him. “Give me a call, okay?”
I tried to leave the store with all the dignity I could muster, hoping no one had been able to read my mind or - worse yet - the lustful look on my face. I also hoped I had not endangered Brandon’s job by offering him another job in front of his fellow employees.
It was several days later when Brandon called and we set an appointment for the following day - his day off. When he arrived that following morning, he looked spectacular. He was wearing tightly fitting designer jeans and a pullover shirt that was an excellent fit to his slender torso. He had an amazingly small waist that set off the clothes and I again thought that he would be a top model in a very short period of time.
I had great difficulty conducting a legitimate interview as he sat across the desk from me, leaning back in his chair with his legs spread. There was no discernible bulge that I could see, but just the fact that he was sitting there in all his beauty and talking to me was a major event for me. He did not seem to be trying to flaunt his appearance nor sway me by his posture - he was merely sitting comfortably as the interview proceeded. Of course, his blinding smile was present throughout the entire ordeal.
Some may say it was a foregone conclusion that I would hire him, but I was not certain myself until the interview came to an end. I wasn’t in love, but I was in lust. And that made me fearful. Both for business as well as personal reasons. The business reasons were self evident but the personal reasons were more complicated. I had always had a personal standard of not getting sexually involved with anyone unless I was in a relationship with that person. I had broken that rule when I first met Kenny and we had both moved too quickly and it had led to disaster. I didn’t want to make that same mistake again but feared I might be unable to effectively control myself if Brandon was around me eight hours a day, five days a week, flashing that smile, looking at me with those blue eyes, and wearing those well fitted clothes. It was a dilemma.
I solved the dilemma by ending the meeting - with a job offer. Brandon accepted and we scheduled him to start in just over a week. I was buoyed with excitement and panicked by the fear of the possible consequences of my decision. No matter how it went, it was too late to turn back now. It was sink or swim time and I pictured myself holding up three fingers as the water slowly closed over my head.
Brandon was clearly stoked by the prospect of an office job that paid half as much again as what he had been making. I had learned during the discussion that his cousin’s wife was now forcing him to pay quite a sum for the small room he had and he was not allowed kitchen privileges which meant having to spend even more to eat all of his meals out. This, plus his inconsiderate older boyfriend who was demanding he make more frequent visits, meant that he was always in debt and never had any money for himself. Feeling sorry for him and wanting to help probably carried a great deal of weight with me and tipped the scales in favor of offering Brandon the job. That, plus the smile and blue eyes, of course.
I forced myself to put my expectations and aspirations in check during the coming week as I anticipated Brandon’s first day of work. He was only nineteen. He had a boyfriend. He was incomparably beautiful and undoubtedly was hit on by every male that came in contact with him - gay or straight, young or old. If I showed an interest in him I would only make a fool of myself and create workplace complications. I wrapped myself in my professional demeanor while allowing myself to be friendly, and extend the hand of friendship so long as it never crossed the line.
Brandon became comfortable with me and, either I was not as good at concealing my lust as I thought or Kenny had tipped off Brandon to my attraction, because he took every opportunity to tease me. Ever fearful of seeming uncool or unable to go along with a prank, I never told him to stop his teasing or expressed any displeasure. Neither did I offer any encouragement or provide him with a reaction which he could point to.
Discretion was observed when Brandon would attempt to tease me. Usually, it was simple things. He would come into my office and stand out of sight of the doorway, and sway his hips or turn his back to me and bend over slightly while wiggling his cute little ass at me. A few times he came in purportedly to talk about business and would take a seat and spread his legs to display an unmistakable tubular bulge at the front of his denims or slacks. In each case, he would allow the tease to continue for only a couple of very frustrating minutes and would then leave and go back to his desk. And I would go home every night needing to administer self-relief and immerse myself in television in order to get him off my mind so that I could sleep that night without dreaming of black haired boys with brilliant blue eyes and blinding white smiles.
The job only lasted for a little over four months. Kenny and Brandon had become interested in the opportunity to become camp counselors at summer camps in the East where extremely wealthy parents sent their children for six weeks each summer. They had each applied and been accepted and would leave in mid-June.
I was morose on the final day of work before the boys left. I still harbored strong loving feelings for Kenny, who had become like family to me and whom I lovingly referred to as my ‘nephew’, and I felt that this was the end with the boys. I was certain that I would not see them again and I deeply felt the loss. Kenny had been my first love in almost seven years of avoiding relationships and people after my split from Greg and the heartbreak that followed. Brandon had become more than just a beautiful boy to lust after, he had become a good friend and I hated the thought of losing such a friend. I didn’t believe the camp counselor situation was anything of promise, certainly not financially, but they were young and this was a dream they had and I knew that this was the time of their lives when they had to pursue the things that wouldn’t make any sense for them in another ten years. Now was the time to dream.
When late September came around, I was happy to hear from Kenny that he was home from camp and glad to be able to tell him that I had a job opening. The man I had hired to replace Kenny had been forging his timecard and I had been forced to dismiss him a couple of weeks earlier. Kenny was excited to hear of the opening as he was anxious to return to California and get out of his parents home. He promised to call in a few days to let me know when he could be back.
That weekend I received a call at home from Kenny, asking if he might be able to stay with me until he could get the money to have his own place. His former roommate had already taken in another renter and even the smallest of apartments would be too expensive for Kenny on his own. I agreed, with some trepidation, because of our former relationship and the pain that we had both experienced when it didn’t work out. I wondered if having Kenny living with me would cause those feelings to resurface and create more anxiety and pain.
Kenny was back within another week and everything seemed to be going well. He tended to go out at night hoping to meet someone. His former boyfriend had proven to be a disappointment and an alcoholic and he and Kenny had broken it off before Kenny had gone to camp, so Kenny was free again to play the field. I was reduced to a doting parent who sat up at night worrying about him when he was out until two or three in the mornings.
Then came a call. Working on some reports one afternoon, my telephone rang and, when I answered, I was greeted with the sound of Brandon’s soft, sweet voice. He asked how things were going, we chatted for awhile, and then he blindsided me with a tease that sat me back, hard, in my chair.
“I might come and visit you some day. Would you like that?”
“Sure,” I replied quite innocently. “You know you’re always welcome here.”
“I might visit you at home. You could take some pictures of me. Naughty pictures. Would that be okay?”
I had to pause, my mind racing through a maze. Having graduated from law school, I was always on alert for hidden meanings and cautious about committing myself to anything on the phone where you didn’t know who might also be listening in. “Um...sure....I guess so.”
“What else would you like to do?”
“We could talk,” I cautiously answered.
“Is that all? Do you like to be on top or on the bottom?”
“Doesn’t matter to me.”
The conversation and cat and mouse game went on like this for another five minutes or so until Brandon said he had to go and that he would call me again. After hanging up. I played the conversation over and over in my mind, confident that I had not committed myself to anything that could come back to bite me but fearful that I had been too circumspect to let Brandon know that I was genuinely interested in his suggestions. I didn’t know why I felt it so necessary to be so cautious with Brandon. He was a friend and he knew me better than most but my lifelong fears were too well entrenched for me to overcome them. I feared consequences. I feared embarrassment. I feared rejection. It had even been suggested to me once that I feared love and that it was that fear, more than any other, which had been the reason I had not been able to establish the desired long term relationship.
Brandon did call again, a week later and then another week after that, and our conversations went pretty much the same as the first. Then, in mid-October, shortly after we had arrived home from work, Kenny came charging out of the back bedroom with his keys and his coat.
“I’m going down to Newport Beach to get Brandon. Is it okay if I bring him here for a couple of days?”
“Uh...sure. What’s wrong?”
“That jerk of a boyfriend of his got him to come down from his parents house a week ago and has treated him like dirt. Brandon finally stood up to him and the jerk kicked him out of the house. He’s sitting at a McDonalds because he has no car and nowhere to go and no way to get there. He called hoping that I might pick him up and take him back home to his parents place.”
“Go get him and bring him here. Do you think that asshole will give Brandon any trouble? Do you need me to go with you?” Although not a fighting sort of person, at six foot six and two hundred thirty pounds I tend to be a fairly imposing figure when I want to be.
“No, he’s got all of his stuff with him. He just needs a ride somewhere so I’ll bring him here until he decides what he wants to do.” With that, Kenny was out the door in a hurry on his mission to rescue his best friend. Where friends were concerned, there was no one more loyal than Kenny. That was clear from the way in which he had tolerated me after our break up, and forgiven my excesses, and I saw his loyalty to friends demonstrated almost daily.
I was watching television about two hours later when the door opened and Kenny, followed by Brandon, entered the house. They deposited several bags near the front door and Brandon came over to hug me and thank me for letting him come and stay with us. It was obvious that he had been crying and, knowing how sensitive he could be, I was not surprised. He tried to put on a brave front and to reflect anger at the way he had been treated, but I could see the underlying pain in his expression. The smile was somewhat dimmed from what I remembered. Brandon was another of those who were loyal and would put up with a lot from someone he cared about, even when they treated him like dirt.
The two boys got Brandon settled into the second bedroom with Kenny, and organized the closet and bathroom so that each had adequate room. The bedroom itself was slightly cramped since it had been my office and still housed my computer desk and computer. But there was room for the Futon sofa which opened into a double bed which Kenny had been sleeping on. I wished I’d had a better bed for the two of them but it appeared they would manage for the time being. Besides, with the attractiveness of those two, I doubted they would be single - or around my place - for very long.
Once they were settled, Kenny announced they wanted to go down to the spa and relax in the hot water for awhile. I was glad to hear it and only too happy to join them. I used the spa rarely since I was not one for doing anything alone and this was an opportunity to enjoy the water and work out the kinks in my back from a day sitting at a desk.
Brandon emerged from the back bedroom, wearing his red shorts again and, once more, I was struck by how incredibly perfect and sexy he looked. So many guys always wound up looking better before they took their clothes off but with Brandon, the less he wore the better he looked. He was definitely a rare jewel.
When we returned from the spa, we all sat on the balcony for awhile, just chatting and enjoying cuban-seed cigars that I had a passion for. Kenny and I had tried them before but this was a new experience for Brandon. It wasn’t quite to Brandon’s taste and after about a fourth of the cigar was finished, he put it out in the ashtray and politely announced he would save the rest for later.
The boys went in and watched some television while I remained on the balcony with my cigar, contemplating the strange turn of events. I could hear Kenny and Brandon laughing at something on the TV and hurling mock insults at each other like the close friends they were and it gave me a sense of peace just hearing their banter. I knew that I was the outsider - the third wheel of our little group - but I couldn’t count how many hundreds of men my age would have given their left nut just to be in my position.
Brandon was exhausted, mentally, from the stress of his emotional experience and Kevin and I were tired from our day at work and we turned in a little after ten o’clock. Being tired didn’t dampen the spirits of those two guys, though. They were already discussing and planning an evening at the clubs in West Hollywood later in the week.
We were rushing around in the morning, getting ready for work. Kenny usually rode with me rather than wasting gas on two cars going the same place at the same time, so he left his car keys with Brandon so that he wouldn’t feel like a shut in.
It turned out that they were anxious to go to the clubs that night and work off a little steam and depression. Brandon was still hurting over the betrayal of someone that was supposed to be his boyfriend. He still hadn’t accepted the fact that he was special, and unique, and could snap his fingers and have guys stampede toward him for a chance to be with him. It seemed that he was almost ready to cave in and call his boyfriend and try to patch things up, apparently in some misguided belief that he couldn’t do any better. How wrong he was.
As they took turns in the bathroom, I sat watching TV and half hoping they would come out of the bathroom wearing towels so that I could enjoy a cheap thrill. No such luck. They were both displaying uncommon modesty tonight. Not even a quick view of their chests.
Things went on pretty much the same each day for almost two weeks until I realized how unhappy Brandon was getting over spending his days alone so I created a temporary job for him at the office that would allow him to work and have some money coming in. His summer camp experience and the following two months had pretty much taken him out of the limelight with his modeling agency and it was slow going getting back into the groove. Modeling agencies are quite fickle and expect you to devote your life’s blood to them and are not terribly forgiving if you show even the slightest streak of independence.
Everything seemed to go back to the way it had been before the summer, the boys were both working for me again, we had lunch at the deli or at Denny’s or one of the many other places we enjoyed each day, and when we got home, the boys were in the showers and getting ready for a night out. I, of course, was sitting up each night waiting to be certain they got home safe like a worried parent. In so many ways, I thought of them as my boys and worried about all the things that could cause them harm because of their youthful innocence.
On the nights when the boys stayed in, we would sometimes use the spa, sometimes just sit on the balcony and smoke and talk and I would hear about their exploits. As Brian became more comfortable around me, his true personality began to shine and he would relate tales of the guys that had tried to hit on him at the clubs and the kind of mischief he and Kenny got into.
Brandon, having been a high school swimming jock, had always seemed fairly masculine in the way he carried himself but I was beginning to notice that he was changing. At first, it seemed a little forced, the sway of his hips when he walked, his gestures, but gradually it had become a part of him. It wasn’t a constant, just his way of being open about his sexuality when he was around friends, without ever actually being flamboyant. It added a new sexiness to his demeanor that worked on my senses even more than before. He seemed more vulnerable, more like someone I could fall in love with. I cursed my nature, my tendency to fall for guys that I felt needed protection. My need to feel needed.
As we sat talking, Brandon told me about sitting at a table with a small group of guys the previous evening at one of the gay clubs and everyone, a little inebriated, announcing their preferences. Brandon had boldly announce that he was a top, paused for about half a second and then burst into giggles before confessing that he just couldn’t tell that big of a lie. It wasn’t so much what he said as the way he said it that had me in stitches, with tears running from laughing. I could picture the incident from his telling as if I had been there.
Kenny had gone on a date and Brandon and I were just sitting on the balcony and talking. He was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and a pair of red patterned boxers and my heart was pounding. I was smoking like a chimney because I was so nervous being in his presence with the way he was dressed. It wasn’t that I hadn’t seen him in his boxers before, he had actually taken to running around in his underwear more often in the evenings when he was home. Frequently, he and Kenny would be in their boxers watching TV with a blanket over the two of them and Kenny would rub Brandon’s beautiful legs absent-mindedly as we all watched the television. Well, actually they watched the TV, while I watched them.
But now, we sat on the balcony facing each other and I kept hoping that Brandon would move his legs just right and allow me a glimpse up the leg of his shorts. It didn’t happen. But I enjoyed just having him to myself for the evening and being able to talk and get to know him better. He was beginning to open up more and more with me and not holding back as he always had. It seemed we were becoming real friends.
One evening, Kenny came home from work feeling ill and was still feeling sick the next day. I made him stay home from work and sleep but when Brandon and I returned home, he was still not feeling well. He was on the sofa in the living room trying to watch TV to take his mind off his nausea and wouldn’t eat anything so I fixed a small dinner for Brandon and I and then went to work on my computer - which was still in the boys bedroom since there was no other place to put it. Brandon remained with Kenny for a time, watching television, then came in to see what I was doing after Kenny fell asleep again.
I had subscriptions to a few different web sites that I enjoyed surfing as well as newsgroups and was busy looking at pictures of boys about the age of Brandon and Kenny. As he stood looking over my shoulder, Brandon remarked that I always found the best sites and commented on the endowments of some of the Eastern European guys.
“The guys from Europe are always so big!” He leaned over getting a closer look at one very good looking blonde boy that probably clocked in at a little over eight or eight and a half inches. Brandon’s proximity made me nervous because had I turned my head I could easily have kissed his cheek.
After watching for a few minutes, Brandon announced he was going to take his shower and grabbed his small bag of bathroom articles from a corner of the bedroom and headed into the adjoining bathroom and closed the door. I heard the water come on and run for a minute or two and then he emerged from the bathroom in just his boxer shorts for something he had forgotten. He returned to the bathroom and again closed the door.
A few moments later, he had forgotten yet another article and emerged once more, this time with his towel wrapped loosely around his very slim hips. I quickly turned back to the computer not wanting to stare. I was always so afraid of being caught staring at someone that I would almost put blinders on and act cold to prevent myself from being embarrassed. How stupid is that?
When Brandon returned to the bathroom, as he closed the door he dropped his towel and I was able to catch a quick glimpse of his cute little ass as the door latched shut. If my hands had been shaking before, they were absolutely vibrating now. That was the first time I had ever seen any part of him that was above mid-thigh or below his naval.
A third time, Brandon returned to the room to get something only this time, when he returned to the bathroom, he let the towel fall away from his hips before he reached the doorway and I was treated to a view of his little ass that lasted for five or six seconds. It was everything I would have expected from him. Two perfect melons mounted at the tops of his thighs, separated by a deep crevice that was made more prominent by the black fuzz deep in the chasm. The cheeks of his ass were completely smooth but there was a beautiful shadow of fuzz in between.
I knew I had been caught staring, this time, because before the door closed I saw his face in the mirror looking right at me. I turned back to the computer very quickly and focused so intently on the screen so that I would not be caught staring again. So focused was I, that I didn’t pay any attention to him when he returned to the room the fourth time. It wasn’t until I stole a quick sideways glance at him as he went back to the bathroom that I realized that he had come into the room completely naked that time, not even carrying his towel, and I had missed the opportunity to see the treasure of treasures that would have been on display at the juncture of his two beautiful legs. I was kicking myself, big time.
Brandon was in the shower for five or six minutes before I heard the water turn off. After a few moments in which I assumed he was drying off and dressing, the door opened and released a cloud of steam. Brandon emerged from the bathroom but he wasn’t dressed. He was perfectly naked and not carrying a towel or anything else that would obstruct my view. I tried to focus on the screen of my computer but he made it difficult. He had me figured out, he knew I was lusting after him and he was making my dreams come true, even if I was resisting.
Walking up and standing beside me, very close, I tried to continue focusing on the monitor. He moved closer, the tip of his soft cock touching my forearm. I closed my eyes and then tried again to focus on the screen. My mind was in turmoil because I wanted to stare at his body, to touch him, to ravish him but I was afraid he was just teasing me and I didn’t want to be the old pervert that makes a fool of himself over some beautiful and unattainable boy. He had been teasing me for so long that I was convinced that he just wanted to get a rise out of me and would then back off very quickly, leaving me rejected, embarrassed and destroyed
He bumped his cock against my arm very lightly a couple of times, pressing the point, and I watched out of the corner of my eye as it began to twitch and slowly rise to stand at a beautiful 45 degree angle from his belly. All pretense was now abandoned as I gazed lustfully at this absolutely perfect specimen of manhood. It was straight as a piece of pipe, about six and a half inches long, proportionally thick, with a perfect silky head at the tip. At the base was a small, thick bush of glossy black pubic hair that adorned his lower belly, with no spread beyond the immediate vicinity of his perfectly sculpted cock. He had two plump eggs hanging below this prize, lightly haired and seeming to be slightly moving on their own.
Brandon continued to stand there, teasing me, tempting me, and I was shortly overcome and unable to resist the allure of his beauty. I had dreamed for so many months of seeing him naked, of touching him, and now he was standing here, practically offering himself to me. And this was no dream.
I tentatively reached out and placed two fingers on his erection and gave it a couple of pumps, then withdrawing in case he was actually just teasing me. He didn’t move. I took his cock between my fingers again and leaned down quickly and kissed the tip. He giggled but didn’t move. Summoning up my nerve, my hands shaking, my heart pounding, my mind racing, I leaned over and took him in my mouth and began sucking. I had never been so overwhelmed before in my life. I had known Brandon for about a year now, lusted after him for practically that entire time, and thoroughly convinced myself that I would never so much as see him naked. But, right here, right now, I had the most perfectly beautiful boy in the world standing naked in front of me, and I had his manhood between my lips. I expected that at any minute the world would end.
The experience was intense. His cock was so velvety smooth, so soft and warm, he tasted so clean and yet so exciting that it was like fireworks going off in my head. The culmination of almost a year’s worth of nighttime fantasies were playing out before my eyes. I exulted in the sensation of my nose being lightly tickled by his pubic hair as my mouth descended to his root, the wondrous feeling of my tongue as it grazed over the ridges of his glans and swirled around the head and shaft in a desperate attempt to give him pleasure. I was frantic to make this experience one which he would truly enjoy, hoping he would allow me to do this again.
I had no misconceptions. Brandon was young and vital, he was at the peak of his sexuality and required a release almost daily. His plans to go out the past two nights had been thwarted by Kenny’s illness and he was desperate. He was horny. Any port in a storm and I was available and more than willing. But, desperation also breeds hope and my hope was that I could give him such an enjoyable experience that he might again seek this port during the next storm.
My hand was on his ass, initially to steady him, but as the feel of his smooth cheeks made its way into my conscious mind, I began to caress the perfectly curved cheeks, enjoying this moment of bliss. I squeezed gently at one of the cheeks as if testing, trying to prove to myself that this was really happening. It was so surreal that it was difficult to accept.
My head was bobbing as quickly as I could move it, up and down. Brandon was responding by rising and falling on the balls of his feet as counter thrust to my movements. My eyes were open, drinking in the sight of his magnificent manhood as it slipped in and out of my mouth. I felt him tense and knew that the moment of truth had arrived.
His release came in volleys, powerful shots that filled my mouth over and over again. I gladly, gratefully even, swallowed what his body was offering to me, privileged to be given that which was so special and so highly valued. It was not the acidic and unpleasant taste I had learned to expect in the past but was warm and soothing. Brandon was raised up on his toes now, no longer thrusting, allowing me to milk the final remains from him.
When I finally allowed his softening cock to slip from my lips, it was with great hesitation and a sense of loss. The experience had reached an end and I didn’t know if it would ever come again. It was a time of both heaven and hell, the heaven of knowing it had really happened and having the memory of it for the rest of my life, and the hell of wanting it again and not knowing if or when it would ever be achieved.
“Did you swallow?”
“Of course. Pure sweet cream!”
“You liked it?”
“Sure. Besides, a blow job is ten times better for someone if the person doesn’t pull away when they come. Your cock is super sensitive at that moment you’re coming and if you keep going and touch those special places with your tongue it really increases the pleasure and the length of the orgasm.”
Brandon gave me a kind of knowing look, nodding in agreement that it had been much better. I had refined my technique during five years with my young boyfriend, Billy, who had never been shy about telling me what he wanted to try or giving instructions on what felt good as we pursued our mutual pleasures.
I watched as Brandon walked back to his closet and pulled on a pair of shorts, realizing that he was signaling the end of this beautiful interlude. I was surprised when he came and stood in front of me again, and spoke to me breathlessly.
“Let me see your cock.”
This was totally unexpected. It was one thing to be horny and accept relief from the nearest mouth but Brandon was actually asking me to show him my cock. There were no words to describe my feelings at that moment.
I stood and began to unbuckle my belt and open my fly when we heard sounds from Kenny in the living room and then heard Kenny call for Brandon. We both jumped, startled at the compromising position we were in. Brandon rushed out of the room to check on Kenny and I quickly zipped up and went to my own room. The spell had been broken. This wondrous experience was at an end.
Although we had shared the ultimate intimacy, nothing really changed between us other than for my longings to enjoy a repeat performance. Brandon continued to be fairly modest around me although he seemed content, at times, to sit on the balcony with me and stretch his legs, resting his feet on my thigh. I was more than happy to be his foot rest.
One evening after he had showered, and while Kenny was taking his turn in the shower, Brandon came out to the living room in his towel and asked me to rub lotion on his back. This was not particularly unusual as he took exceptional care of his amazing skin in order to retain the silky softness and assure that it would meet the standards of the most discriminating photographers. He generally had the assistance of Kenny in applying the lotions to his back. Since Kenny was in the shower, that pleasant duty fell to me. It took so little to make me happy.
Brandon sat on the forward edge of the sofa as I applied the lotion to his back and moved my hand over his skin, spreading the lotion and working it in to his shoulders and back. He had let the towel fall around him where he sat and the beginning crease of his ass was in clear view and my manhood was definitely responding. I continued to rub his back, wanting to keep caressing him all night, and finally allowed my hand to drift low enough that my fingers passed over the crease. It was like an electric shock passed through my body and I gasped for air and quickly moved my hand higher on his back in case he might complain about the liberty I had taken. I wanted to ask if he would like me to apply the lotion to his ass but I lacked the courage for such a bold move. To say that I felt insecure around Brandon would have been like saying the Pacific Ocean was a pond.
Having milked the experience as much as I could, I handed Brandon the bottle of lotion and he gathered the towel around his waist and headed toward the hallway. Just as he left the living room, the towel fell from one side giving me another brief but glorious view of his naked ass, the cheeks undulating as he walked. What I noticed most was that the line of black fuzz was no longer evident between those spectacular buns. He had taken to using a hair removing lotion on his body.
Over the next few weeks, I began to realize that I was, or had, fallen in love with Brandon. It was a cruel and torturous turn of events to be so in love with the one person that you knew you would never have a chance with. What made it worse was that Brandon would sit on the balcony telling me about the guys he had met at the clubs in West Hollywood, what he had done with them. It was like a spike being driven through my heart, yet I couldn’t tell him of my feelings for him for fear that it would disgust him or make him fearful of me. Instead, I began pulling away, spending more and more time by myself on the balcony, and drinking heavily.
Kenny noticed the change and was alarmed. He tried to talk to me but I couldn’t tell him what was bothering me. He occasionally snuck out on the balcony when I was less than alert, and would grab the bottle of Vodka that I was beside my chair and either empty it in the sink or hide it.
Everything came to a head one night when Kenny and I were home alone. Brandon had met a guy that he really liked and they were closing in on a relationship. Brandon was spending the night with him and I was entirely beside myself. I was happy for Brandon. I wanted him to be happy. What I couldn’t help was the finality of it, the acceptance that - in spite of having known the futility of my feelings for him - all hope was now certainly lost. I certainly could not compete with his new boyfriend, a goodlooking guy, mid-20's, a trust fund baby from an excessively wealthy family, and an actor and producer in his own right. The guy was everything I wasn’t.
I had finished one large bottle of Vodka and started on another. My mind was going over my life and evaluating all that I had seen and done. I thought of Robby, my first true love and how he had toyed with me and then left to join the Navy. I thought of Billy, who had been my world for five long years and then left to go home and marry a girl that he had met during his last vacation home. I thought of Eric who I had loved and who had used my feelings for him to his benefit. Of Greg, who had been my first truly adult relationship and my most magnificent failure. Then there was Kenny, who had been my last best hope and I had now finally accepted that there was no chance that we could ever be together as a couple. Brandon was just the last in a long line of heartbreaks and disappointments and in the fog of too much alcohol, I knew that the reason for being no longer existed for me.
I stumbled through the living room toward my bedroom, waving off Kenny when it looked like he was about to rise from the sofa to help me, and sat on the edge of my bed. After catching my breath, I stood and reached under the mattress and drew out my 9mm Glock that had been given to me for protection by my brother, a police officer in my home town. I stared at it for what seemed like a very long time, again playing out the many disappointments in my life and knowing I didn’t want the pain to continue any longer. I brought the weapon up to the side of my head and, as I turned to look out the window, my foot caught on the comforter and threw me off balance. The loud report of the Glock thundered in my ear as I fell back on my bed, shocked and stunned either by the loudness of the weapon so close to my ear.
I felt a presence in the room and could faintly hear Kenny calling my name. I felt the Glock being removed from my hand but was powerless to move or respond. My mind was a jumble of thoughts and emotions and I could feel the hot tears running down the sides of my face. I wasn’t sure if I was crying because I had failed to do what I had intended or because I was so ashamed that I had made the attempt.
I must have laid there for some time, not moving, somewhat overwhelmed by the events, until I heard the phone on the bedside stand. It seemed far distant at first, slowly encroaching on my consciousness, becoming more insistent. I finally managed to roll on my side and pick up the receiver. It was Brandon.
“What happened? Kenny called me hysterically about you shooting your gun.”
“What do you mean you missed?”
“I don’t know.”
“Kenny took your gun and hid it. He’s coming over here because he can’t be there right now. He’s really freaked out.”
“Are you going to go to sleep now?”
“Are you okay?”
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”
Within a few minutes, I was out. The flood of overwhelming emotions had so completely drained me of energy, the alcohol having clouded my mind, I fell into a dreamless sleep, which under the circumstances was probably the best kind of sleep I could have.
The following morning I was in no condition for work and stayed in bed, my head still swimming and pounding with results of the previous nights excess. As evening rolled around, the boys came home from work and tried to act as if nothing had happened. I could tell that Kenny was still freaked by the previous nights events and I felt sorry that I had inflicted that upon him. He was a peaceful, caring and sensitive boy who had been subjected to an event that no twenty-year old should ever have to deal with.
As Kenny showered, Brandon sat on the balcony. He tried to get me to tell him what had happened but I couldn’t tell him. If I admitted what I had done, he would want to know why. I couldn’t tell him why. It would be entirely unfair to him to place that burden on his young shoulders. It was not his responsibility nor his fault that I was an emotional wreck. I allowed him to believe that I was handling the gun in my drunken stupor and it had simply gone off. That was easier. Accidents happened all the time with guns. It was believable. He accepted my explanation.
After this incident, I understood the depths to which I had allowed myself to sink and stopped drinking. It didn’t help the pain I felt but at least it prevented me from dulling my senses to the point I had been and would make a repeat of my abject stupidity far less likely.
I found myself spending more time on my balcony with my cigars and cigarettes than before, mostly when the boys were at home, as a means of building a wall around myself and cutting myself off from the pain of being so close to the unattainable. I knew that I needed to get help to deal with my depression but pride prevented me from admitting to anyone - myself included - that I was incapable of handling my own problems.
Over the next few weeks, Kenny became my mainstay. Brandon was out frequently with his new boyfriend and Kenny would stay at home and always seek out any opportunity to talk and find out what was bothering me. One night, I finally broke down and confessed to him that I had fallen in love with Brandon and had no idea how to cope with it. Somehow, finally admitting the source of my problems to someone, along with the tremendous support and encouragement that Kenny gave me, began to make things a little easier for me and each day the pain decreased a little more. While I was not happy about it, I began to accept that there was no hope to the situation and that my fantasies and desires were utterly foolish.
Then the next shoe dropped. Just over six weeks after that wonderful episode with Brandon, he approached me at work one day and suggested we go home for lunch. Kenny was out of town for a few days so our regular lunch routine was on hiatus. At first, I rejected the suggestion as it would take us more than our normal lunch hour just to go home and come back. But Brandon closed my office door and gave me a seductive look and said the words I had been wishing to hear.
“We can go home for lunch and just stay there the rest of the day. I thought you could take some pictures of me. Any kind of pictures you want. And we can have a little fun. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Hell, yes! It was a dead man’s resurrection. I was still hesitant about just leaving for the rest of the day and leaving all of my employees alone, but the temptation was far too great and I finally agreed. It really was not a difficult sale once I understood the truth of what ‘lunch’ meant. And, it was probably a good idea anyway since I was painfully erect and sooner or later my condition would become obvious to someone.
We drove home and entered the apartment. Brandon actually seemed quite excited about what was planned, though I couldn’t understand why. I wasn’t especially handsome or desirable such that would make a gorgeous twenty year old want me. Needless to say, I didn’t spend a great deal of time analyzing the situation but, instead, headed for my bedroom to retrieve my digital camera. At the very least, I would have some great pictures to keep me warm at night and turn to when I was feeling down and lonely.
I had barely had a chance to get the camera from my bedroom closet before Brandon came into the room. He had already undressed and was wearing his blue terrycloth robe. He sat at the foot of my bed in a kind of pose, nothing revealed, and I quickly shoved a 3½” diskette in my camera and clicked off a few shots.. He pulled the robe down over one shoulder, revealing a portion of his chest and I clicked several more times. He untied the sash at his waist and opened his robe slightly, enough to show more of his slender upper body but not revealing anything below his navel. I was snapping away with the camera and becoming unsteady on my feet with nervousness.
“Do you want to see me naked?”
I gulped. “Yes.” It probably came out in a breathless, husky voice but I was lucky that it didn’t come out with a squeak.
“If I’m going to be naked, you have to take your pants off, too.”
This was a new development. I wasn’t about to decline, of course, but this took things to a whole new level. Brandon wanted me naked. It took all of ten seconds for me to get my pants off and Brandon rewarded me by throwing open his robe and revealing his glorious body, his solid erection pointing at the ceiling, and I clicked my camera almost frantically, wanting to preserve the moment before it could end.
Brandon sat on the edge of the bed, his legs spread, pushing the robe completely off his shoulders now. He reached out and pulled me toward him and lowered my boxers. My cock sprang out parallel to the floor and he wrapped his soft, warm hand around it and gently stroked a few times.
“You really are big.”
I had never really thought so, but a number of different guys had told me so. I always thought of myself as pretty average after allowing for my height. The thought occurred to me that perhaps Brandon was one of those guys who were into big cocks, because our first encounter a month and a half earlier had been just days after he, Kenny, and I, sat on the balcony and Kenny had made a comment about my size. Brandon had immediately asked how big, to which I had replied that I wasn’t all that big. Brandon’s eyes had sparkled when Kenny had replied, “Biggest I ever had.”
I had always compared myself with all the gorgeous guys in gay porn videos and felt I came up short - literally. A favorite of mine in the eighties had been a porn star by the name of Chad Knight, and another by the name of David Ashfield. Both were said to be over nine inches and they seemed to be much larger than my scant eight inches.
Now it all made sense. Brandon’s curiosity had been stirred and he just wanted to see for himself. But I found that I was wrong again as he leaned forward and took me in his wet mouth and began administering the first blow job that I had received in well over a year. My knees were weak and my head was spinning but I managed to point the camera and capture several pictures from above of Brandon’s mouth on my manhood. I especially loved one particular shot with his lips wrapped around the head, his chin tilted up and his beautiful blue eyes looking up at me as if seeking approval. Believe me. On a scale of one to ten, he was a 200.
I leaned forward, letting my hands caress his shoulders and back as he continued administering to my overheated desires. I trailed my hands down his chest, over his small peaked nipples, and tried to reach his upright cock so that I could feel it in my hand once again. Not being a contortionist, the reach wasn’t quite possible but Brandon realized what I wanted and allowed me to slip free of his lips and drop to my knees.
I kneeled directly in front of Brandon’s spread legs, holding his pulsing cock and just staring at it. I have always been astounded that the human mind could look at a male’s sex organ and pronounce it beautiful or have such an overwhelming desire for it, but that was what I felt. I leaned forward and took him in my mouth and once again marveled at the soft, bland taste, the feel of the skin on my tongue, the heart rending sensation of making love to the most beautiful boy in the world.
I held his plump balls in my free hand and gently felt their weight and the sprinkling of crisp hairs that grew from the pebble-grain textured sac. I was truly in awe that such perfection even existed in such an imperfect world. But I certainly gave thanks, remembering the old phrase, ‘For what we are about to receive, we are truly grateful’.
When Brandon felt the spreading warmth, he pushed my head away, making me stand, and began sucking me again. It was only for a minute or two and then, still holding my erection in his hand, he looked up at me with those blue eyes. “Do you want to fuck me?”
He was lucky I didn’t explode right then all over his face. He was the most seductive little vixen I had ever known. He oozed sex appeal from every pore of his body. His voice was the epitome of a sexual siren, reaching out and enveloping me and allaying my own free will in order to impose his own. I was helpless to resist, even if I had wanted to.
We threw the covers off my bed and stacked pillows against the headboard. With me half laying on the bed, he applied lube to my very hard erection and hovered over it. I could see the muscular tone of his slender legs as he crouched over me and slowly lowered himself onto me, pausing once or twice before continuing. When he had completely seated himself, he leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. Another wonderful surprise that I had neither expected nor dared dream was possible.
He began to move slowly, riding my cock in a combination motion that was both up and down as well as forward and backward because of the positions we were in. I watched, literally dumbfounded, and ran my hands lovingly over his arms and chest, not quite able to reach his cock. I so wanted to be stroking him.
Brandon kissed me again, and then again, as his back and forth motions brought him closer to my face and I felt that I was the most blessed man alive. Here, a man in his late forties, was privileged to not only see this sweet adonis naked, to caress his body, to suck him, to fuck him, but to be kissed by him. It didn’t get any better than this. And never would.
He was leaning sharply forward as moved his ass on my cock, and his own erection was rubbing against my belly as he moved. I was in a complete daze, observing what was happening and not sure that I believed it. Brandon suddenly froze in place, and after a heartbeat or two began shooting all over my stomach. He seemed to be having a fairly intense experience and I remained quiet, watching, enjoying the vision. When finally his breathing returned to normal, he seemed almost giddy.
“That was great. I’ve never come before in my life without touching myself.”
We cuddled somewhat for a few moments, getting some strength back, and then went to our separate bathrooms to clean up. I almost asked him to shower with me but decided that would probably be asking too much.
I had looked forward to spending the rest of the afternoon and evening with Brandon as I truly enjoyed his company. He was so outgoing, could talk for hours and keep you interested, and had a way of keeping you laughing for hours. It was not to be. When Brandon emerged from his bedroom, showered and dressed, he announced he was going over to his boyfriends house for the night.
They say that it is a very fine line between joy and pain, made even finer when the two feelings are so terribly intense. Great authors have written of both exquisite joy and exquisite pain. I had felt both within the period of an hour.
A short few weeks later, Brandon announced that he was moving in with his boyfriend and he and Kenny began gathering up his clothes and belongings to make the move. Kenny pretended that he was happy to have the bedroom and bed to himself finally, but I could see that he was already missing having Brandon around. They were as close as any two friends could be - even closer than most brothers. They shared their secrets, their hopes and desires, everything about their lives, holding nothing back. There could be no doubt that Kenny would miss Brandon being around, the time they had alone together to talk or just hang. If I hadn’t been so preoccupied with my own intense disappointment and sense of loss, I would have been feeling badly for Kenny.
Within a couple of months after Brandon moved out, Kenny met someone that he was also very taken with and moved in with his new companion. I felt lost in the empty apartment now, an empty nest, and immersed myself in my forays into the depths of the internet. I would come home from work, sit down at my computer and remain there until after midnight, forgetting to eat.
I realized that I had fallen back into another self destructive cycle and decided the only way I could break free would be to move and leave the memories that I carried of life in this apartment behind. I began looking around and was fortunate to find a townhome within ten minutes of my office. I made the arrangements and moved a short time later.
I was in my new place for only a few weeks when Brandon asked if he could see the place. When I replied that he could, he suggested we go for lunch.
As soon as I had given him the brief tour of my new place, we sat on the sofa to talk. He moved closer, finally sitting down on his knees, legs under him, sideways and facing me. He was directly next to me and I was beginning to wonder what he was up to when he reached over and placed his hand, palm down, on my crotch.
It had been several months since anything had taken place between us and I had accepted that he was with his new boyfriend now and what had happened in the past was at an end. I realized now that, this tentative action on his part was a way of finding out if I was still attracted to him. He was checking to see if his being so close to me had caused me to become aroused. I hadn’t, but I was now.
Once Brandon felt the rise of my passion, he began fumbling with my belt and zipper and digging his slender fingers into my boxers to extract my manhood. It was pure joy to feel a hand other than my own touching me, even more because it was Brandon that was touching me. He bent over and began to lick at the head of my cock, to move his tongue all around and then took as much of me as he could into his mouth. I caressed his back and ran my hand up under his shirt, feeling as happy as I had ever felt.
After several minutes, Brandon sat up and looked at me, a big grin plastered on his face. He stood up and started removing his clothes, laying them neatly at the opposite end of the sofa, and stood completely and gloriously naked in front of me. His erection was like marble and pointed skyward. His formerly full pubic bush was now thoroughly trimmed, being very sparse and making his cock look longer than I had remembered. When he showed me his ass, I could see that there was not a hair evident anywhere.
He gave me a wonderful present at that moment by sitting on my lap. I was, and had always been, someone who craved affection and could actually be just as happy cuddling as having sex. He curled up on my lap like a child, his arms around my neck, and I embraced him around his chest and held him close. He kissed me several times and I responded in kind. They were friendship kisses, the little pecks on the lips, and I knew that this was something he was giving me and wondered if it was intended to be a goodbye, the last time I would ever be able to make love to him.
After long minutes of cuddling, Brandon was busy once again, removing my pants, unbuttoning and removing my shirt and leading me up the stairs to my bedroom. We spent a wonderful hour laying in bed as I enjoyed just caressing his naked body, exploring the beautiful lines and curves of his body, feeling his erection, stroking his cock, rubbing his legs, and finally giving him what he had patiently waited for.
I slowly eased my cock into his ass as he kept mumbling about how big I was, how good it felt to have someone big in him again. Then, nervously trying to develop a rhythm and give him the kind of pleasure and joy he always gave so generously to me, I fucked Brandon for long minutes until he began to feel the stirrings. We quickly changed positions so that I was no longer entering him from behind but lay on the bed with him seated on my cock and he exploded on my chest then collapsed to hug and kiss me for a few minutes as we regained our breath.
Over a period of several months, my little trysts continued with Brandon as we would sneak out of work for a little afternoon delight. Most of these episodes were initiated by Brandon as, in spite of the continuing nature of our getting together, I was still feeling too insecure to be the one to suggest we go home for ‘lunch’.
I was always newly amazed by Brian’s beauty each time I saw him undressed. I had enrolled myself, Kenny and Brandon in a tanning salon and we visited the salon probably twice a week. As a result, Brandon’s olive skin had taken on a beautiful rich golden hue and, since he used the tanning beds naked, the tan covered his entire glorious body.
There were times we would go home and I would sit on the sofa and Brandon would lay down, his head resting in my lap, and I would trace my fingers over his exquisite features and caress his silky chest. After a few moments, he would undo his belt and lower his zipper, revealing no underwear, and his erection would rise proudly from between the flaps of his denims. Brandon’s cock was always like a the siren’s call in ancient Greek mythology and I would toy with it, caress it, stroke it and finally rise from the sofa to remove his clothes entirely and make love to his hard flesh.
Other times, Brandon would strip naked as soon as the door closed, then take me by the hand and lead me upstairs to my bedroom. I would follow obediently, my eyes glued to his perfectly beautiful ass as the cheeks moved up and down as he climbed the stairs in front of me. Then I would suck him, he would suck me, I would fuck him or he would merely sit on my cock and move his ass at his own rate until he would finally explode.
One Saturday, Brandon showed up unexpectedly. I had been reading when he knocked at the door. He came in and I could tell he was upset. He and his boyfriend had a major disagreement and Brandon had been ejected from the house in a very hostile and demeaning fashion. I had known that the boyfriend was very much a control freak and objected very strongly to Brandon having friends outside of their relationship but I had also believed that he truly loved and cared for Brandon so the nature of the breakup was a surprise. Brandon asked if he could move in with me for a time until he figured out what he would do. Naturally, I agreed.
“I like running around naked at home. Is that a problem?”
I had become aware that Brandon had become somewhat of an exhibitionist since he had finally begun to recognize the extent of his beauty. He had taken some rather risque photos with the photographer that his modeling agency had sent him to, had gone on a modeling cattle-call without wearing underwear and wound up parading around naked when all of the boys were told to strip to their underwear. So, while his statement was somewhat of a surprise, it wasn’t a major revelation. “Doesn’t bother me. You can run around naked all you want.” Of course, secretly I knew that he knew that it was exactly what I wanted. The voyeur in me couldn’t help oggling the bodies of beautiful boys.
Brandon then unzipped his denims and pushed them down his thighs, purportedly to show me his newly trimmed pubic bush, then plopped down beside me and placed his palm over my crotch to gauge my reaction. No surprises here. I was hard as steel. It was a nice way to spend a Saturday afternoon. Actually, being with Brandon was a nice way to spend any afternoon, or morning, or evening.
While Brandon moved all of his clothing and belongings into my extra bedroom, he never actually spent a night there. As soon as his boyfriend realized Brandon was moving out without coming crawling back to him, he began trying to win Brandon back. Brandon was wise enough to go through with his move without severing his ties to his boyfriend, leaving the door open for a reconciliation.
It was quite wonderful for me, as well. Brandon stopped by three or four times a week to pick up a change of clothes and, each time, as soon as he entered the house he would strip naked. After awhile he would call down for me to come up and see something he had to show me. What he had to show me was always the same - his hard cock. And then we would spend the next hour making love. It was probably one of the greatest times of my life, making love to Brandon a few times a week over the course of about three or four months.
The day finally came that I had anticipated. Brandon was entirely reconciled to his boyfriend and came around to retrieve what remained of his possessions at my house. I took my time caressing his body and making love to him, fully expecting this to be the last time we would be together intimately. I had suffered greatly with a sense of guilt over the past fifteen months since Brandon had officially become a part of a relationship with his boyfriend, but I was powerless to resist the magnetism of Brandon’s personality or the beauty of his whole being. I wanted this last time to be special, to be memorable, so that I could have something to hold onto in my mind and remember that I had been lucky enough to make love to the most beautiful boy in the world.
Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t a finale to our affair. Brandon continued to stop by on the weekends from time to time for almost another nine months. He would regale me with stories of the parties he and his boyfriend went to, the celebrities he met, the young gay actor that had become a close friend and would come over to sit naked in the hot tub with he and his boyfriend. His life was exciting and full.
Brandon’s boyfriend eventually started a public relations business with a long time friend and Brandon went to work in the new business. It started slowly but gradually built over a few months because of the connections that both his boyfriend and the partner had in the business. Before long, Brandon was extremely busy, always on the go, and frequently called me on his cell phone as he was darting from one location to another to place orders, make arrangements, or finalize details for an event. He did so well at his work and was so highly respected for what he offered the business, that the two partners included him as a partner in the business. Brandon had finally achieved a level of success based on his own talents and efforts.
There was an extended period of time that I didn’t see Brandon because of his growing obligations but I enjoyed hearing from him. Then, one Saturday, he showed up at the door. He looked magnificent. Now halfway between 24 and 25, he still had that youthful look and, if anything, was more beautiful than ever. As he undressed in front of me, I realized he was every bit as slender and toned as he had been when I first met him at nineteen, and I gazed on his beauty as he slowly exposed himself to me.
I must have seemed somewhat reluctant to him that day. I had not been feeling well for several days and my energy level was pretty much at rock bottom. I tried to get into the mood but the lack of energy and shortness of breath almost overwhelmed me and all I could do was lay back and allow Brandon to take control. This would turn out to be our last time together and I have wished desperately the last time could have been more memorable. I have wondered if my lack of energy was seen by Brandon as a lack of interest in him, which caused him to pull away.
We had made appointments to get together for dinner a few times, but each time Brandon called at the last minute to cancel because of other obligations that were making it impossible to keep the ‘date’. After cancelling the last dinner, he said he would call the next week. He didn’t call. I waited for a few weeks, expecting he would call and have lots of stories to tell about all the activities he had been involved in, but he never did. I tried calling his cell phone once and left a message but never heard from him. When his birthday came around, I sent him an electronic greeting card, but he didn’t respond.
I suppose that sometimes as people grow, they also grow apart from their past. Brandon and Kenny had also drifted apart because of their individual relationships and obligations and now it was clear that Brandon was also a part of my past. I had always hoped that Brandon and I would remain good friends for many years and I could enjoy hearing of his experiences and exploits. But I had also had a very real expectation that it might not be, that as he grew and got more involved in his work and his hectic schedule that there simply might not be time for his past friendships. I finally concluded to let go. Any attempts to try and keep in touch with him, when he had moved on, would only be uncomfortable or annoying for Brandon and painful or embarrassing for me.
What did I possibly have to complain about, after all. I had five years of friendship with an exceptional young man. He gave me love, friendship and himself, shared his extraordinarily beautiful body with me on many occasions, and allowed me to be a part of his life. For all that I gave him, he had given me so much more.
I was a blessed man.