From: Ron aka TOPMASTER aka SILVERSTUD Newsgroups: alt.sex.motss Subject: An actual x-rated story from my life; have written of many Date: Sun, 19 Jun 94 14:57:07 -0500 Organization: Delphi (info@delphi.com email, 800-695-4005 voice) Lines: 593 Message-ID: NNTP-Posting-Host: bos1b.delphi.com JUST PLAYIN' AROUND (a slice of the author's life story) by RON DALANOR I like having my cock sucked, I like having my balls licked till they are dripping wet, I like having my ass rimmed till I nearly lose track of space and time, I like twisting, licking and chewing or a guy's tits till he begins leaking juice, I like the feeling of sliding my dick into a tight, willing mancunt, I like the sound of a guy moaning as I plow his hole, and, most of all, I like a guy who is willing to do anything to insure my satisfaction, one who is willing to obey my every command. My life in the beginning of the summer of 1976 consisted only of work and grad school. There really wasn't that much to do in Auburn, Alabama anyway. Just as May turned to June, I discovered I liked having sex with men. The thought of my having sex with men just had never crossed my mind before; I thought that the sex I had been having with women was fully satisfying. After some initial experimentation, it became very clear that I much more enjoyed men and dominating them sexually. And, to boot, they were much more desirous and appreciative of my sexually dominant nature. I don't think you could ever say I "came out"; as southern as I am, I just never saw the need to discuss the intimate details of my sexual life with anyone, except those involved and my closest friends. Unlike many, I never sought nor needed validation or approval about my personal life from others. If it worked for me, I just didn't give a shit about what anyone else thought. Guess I got that kind of hardcore individualism from my east Tennessee and Kentucky mountain ancestors. Of course, growing up of mixed ancestry taught me that people could only attempt to inflict their values or point of view on you if you gave them the chance; I never did about any aspect of how I conducted my personal affairs. With no hesitation to do as I pleased and no guilt over what I did, you'd think that my life would have been pretty idyllic, and it was. However, I made my share of mistakes. Perhaps, the biggest mistakes I made came out of total ignorance. In those early days, all I did with men was play around. It was sex and pleasure only; I thought that was all two men could ever have together. Thus, for me, a lot of good opportunities came and went. One of the best of them was Phil. Initially, I had no physical attraction to Phil. Like far too many, I had set a silly physical agenda about what I desired in a man. Luckily, the power of my sex drive soon taught me that an eager and willing partner was much more valuable and cost effective than one who had to go through the "pursue me mating dance". Phil was attractive but not what I thought I wanted. I preferred men who were dark, hairy; Phil was, at best, slightly fuzzy and blonde. I preferred men who were overtly masculine as to enhance the thrill of dominance; Phil, though not at all feminine, was only subtly masculine. On top of everything else, Phil was shy and not at all my intellectual equal. We probably would never have gotten together except for a little pair of white sailor shorts. Phil's sister, Jenny, was one of the cocktail waitresses. Jenny was a hippie wannabe. From the crocheted hats and shawls to the mini-skirts, granny glasses (tinted, of course), and beads, she tried her best, but I always thought she looked better in her uniform. She would always hang around the front desk for a while after the bar closed to chat while I did the audit. She was as liberal in her thinking as she was in her dress. She made it quite plain that she was interested in a roll in the hay. However, it wasn't to be an ordinary roll in the hay. She had in her mind a threesome between herself, her boyfriend, and me. Still in my exploratory stages of sexual development, the idea intrigued me, somewhat. She also make it clear that her boyfriend, a hippie wannabe musician, and she wanted the same things from me. The grand encounter between the three of us consisted of both of them giving me head, my fucking him while he ate her out, my fucking her while she sucked him off, and my fucking him while he fucked her. What can I say; it was a memory. Jenny helped get her younger brother a job as a waiter in the restaurant, and that's where I first met him. Phil was shy; he was rather boyish in his tux shirt, ass-fitting black pants, bow tie, and short ponytail. Though twenty-one and only a couple of years younger than I, Phil seemed so much younger due to his childlike nature. He was playful with all the customers, and he was especially good with families that had children. He wasn't the brightest person in the world, but he was quite genuine and sincere. Phil would take his breaks in the office behind the front desk. He'd have a cigarette and subtly flirt with me. All southerners - male and female, gay and straight - flirt. It's an unwritten law of the south; flirting is, after all, the third thing we learn in life. We talk first, walk second, and flirt third. I never took Phil's flirting seriously until "Tropical Island Night". It was the brainstorm of the restaurant manager. She decorated the restaurant in a tropical theme and made the waiters and waitresses wear little nautical uniforms. Phil's was all white. White shirt, white pants, white socks and white shoes. Phil wore no underwear. This was the first time I looked at Phil's butt with more that just an appreciative eye; I wanted to get in it. The way I kept looking at him whenever he came out to get clearance for room service orders must have tipped him off. As he was getting ready to leave, he stopped by the front desk, reminded me that I had the next night off, offered to bring over Chinese food, said he like to spend the evening with me - longer if I wanted. I was almost speechless at first because my mind was busy bending him over the desk in the office and having it's way with him. I recovered enough to agree. The next night, Phil and I sat around eating Chinese carry-out and listening to James Taylor, ELO, The Four Tops, and the Beatles on the stereo. As I watched him eat sitting cross-legged on the floor in his form fitting jeans and lime green tank with his sun-streaked blonde hair pulled back in his little ponytail, I knew that the passionate urge I had for him the night before had long since subsided. As we chatted mindlessly, I wondered why I did not have the desire to bed him as I had the night before. Phil's apparent shyness seemed to keep his usual flirtatious nature in check; thus, I was pretty sure nothing would happen. Unless I felt an overwhelming desire for the guy or unless I was aware of the guy's overwhelming desire for me, my libido hibernated. And, it seemed to be down for a long winter's nap. Phil got up from the floor with the pretense that he was going to clean up our mess and go to the john. He grabbed one of the paper bags he had brought in with him; I hadn't noticed until then that it had remained unopened. Phil also collected the debris from our meal and stuffed it into another paper bag; I supposed he was going to dispose of the stuff on his way to the bathroom. When Phil came back from the bathroom, he was wearing the sailor-like waiter's uniform I had seen him in the night before. I was double stunned into silence - stunned that he had changed into it (we both had the night off) and stunned because it was rapidly having the same effect it had on me the night before (there was a definite stirring in my briefs). I am sure only brief seconds passed, but I sat there cataloging every aspect of him. Little by little it started to dawn on me that the uniform seemed to multiply his masculinity, and that turned me on. It explained why an average looking guy in a mechanic's jumpsuit, or a plumber's coveralls, or a naval uniform, or a set of army fatigues, or a marine uniform, or a postman's uniform, or a police uniform, or a UPS uniform, or, in fact, almost any distinctive delivery man's uniform could trigger the satyr in me as well as why the very attractive and well groomed guy could not. Phil knelt down where I was sitting on the floor and kissed me long and hard. His mouth sweetly tasted of soy sauce and cigarette smoke, and I found myself giving into the kiss. I held him hard and tight and intensified the intimacy of the kiss. I was trying to possess him, I wanted to take him fully and roughly. Almost lost to the moment, I pushed him back before it was too late. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Look, you're a nice guy and all, but I don't think you know what you're letting yourself in for with me." I managed to say. Phil sat back, but, instead of that oft sad and innocent little boy look that he sported when flirting with me, I saw a man with determination in his eyes. "I'll do whatever you want, whatever you say." Phil said with the utmost conviction in his voice. The silence pushed and pulled at us both. I stood and pulled him up to me. There was little gentleness in how I pressed him to me, or how I raped his mouth with my tongue, or how I held his ass captive in my hands. There was desperation in my lust for him, and nothing could halt my having him in every way I wanted him. Awkwardly and savagely we were ripping at each others clothes. Unlike the porn movies you see, our clothes did not magically disappear. Finally, with shirts removed, and my pants undone we went back into an embrace akin to that of a boa constrictor attempting to capture that meal of salvation. My fingers caught into a hole in those white uniform pants of Phil's. I ripped at it in an attempt to prepare an entrance way. It did part quite easily which even in my fervor I thought was odd, but I needed inside him without caring how it was accomplished. I probed at his hole which seemed strangely wet and slick. I snagged a rubber from my pocket, stepped out of my shorts, tore open the condom, hastily put it on, pushed Phil face down onto the carpet, and lay on top of him. My dick was so hard that it hurt from the blood pounding into it. Without any fanfare, I plunged my cock into him. He screamed, but, with full entry, that scream became a huge slowly fading sigh. I poked fully in and out of his hole as if I were riding a pogo stick, and his ass rose to meet every single thrust I made. "Fuck me! Fuck me hard!" I heard Phil yell into the floor. "Yeah, Baby, you're gonna get one mean fuckin' tonight!" I responded in heavy breathing gasps. I had never wanted to cum as quickly and as badly as I did at that moment, but I was far too stimulated for orgasm. I was into sensory overload, and it would be quite sometime before I got close enough to spew. The uniform had triggered my excitement, but it was Phil's responsiveness that had thrown my libido into its super nova phase. I had never been with a man who so obviously and thoroughly enjoyed being fucked; it was evident in every counterthrust he made onto my cock as well as in every moan and word he uttered. I found myself biting, chewing and tasting the flesh of his shoulders and his neck, and his salty, sweet, masculine taste made me want to drive into him even deeper and harder. "Oh God! Fuck me! Fuck me! Don't stop! Fuck me!" Phil's voice moaned with a need as desperate as the one I felt. The olfactory mix of his sweat, his deodorant, his cologne, and his natural masculine scent kept me thrusting deep into his willing hole. All my socialization and civilization had faded away; my motives were purely primeval. I had to empty my load inside him, but I also had to leave him with a memory of this union. "Oh shit! Fuck my ass! Fuck my ass!" "Take my fuckin' dick, faggot!" "Do it to me! You're gonna make me cum! Fuck me harder, make me cum!" His words brought a renewed vigor to my probing of his asscunt. I poked into him as hard and as fast as I possibly could. I wanted to make him cum just as I had made so many women reach orgasm, I wanted my dick to take him where he needed to go, and I wanted to feel his ass tighten on my cock when he got there. "Fuckin' dick in my ass! You fuckin' got me!. I'm cummin', I'm cummin'!" "Fuckin' cum for me, bitch! Milk my fuckin' dick!" Phil started shaking all over. He sobbed, and he moaned. His ass squeezed and released my dick over and over again. My balls felt as if they were trying to climb out of the top of my head, and then it hit. I clenched my eyes so tightly I saw colors, my body went rigid, and then the spasms of deep orgasm rummbled forward. I just kept screaming "God damn!" repeatedly. I ground into him until the wave of pleasure had fully dissipated. I collapsed on top of him, neither of us moved, and we said nothing for quite some time. Though Phil seemed quite content, a tiny uneasiness was growing within me. It was a glimmer of guilt. I had used him purely for my own pleasure with little thought given to his needs. As I moved to disentangle my member from him, he clenched at it tightly and softly moaned. Could it be that Phil got as much out of this animalistic fuck as I had? How could he? How could a man enjoy receiving such brutality? How could I enjoy giving such brutal treatment? I felt awkward when I rolled off Phil, but he turned toward me and smiled. He put his arms around me and kissed me gently, sweetly, and submissively. Phil must have figured out the distressed look on my face. "I always wanted it that way." he said. "You're okay?" I asked. "Great! And, I'll be even better if you use me and abuse me all night long." he said through the most honest eyes I had ever seen. "I'm not sure....." I began. "Be sure that I will do anything you order me to do, Sir!" he responded. I laid back, and Phil snuggled close to me. I had read stories like this, I had heard about guys like this, but I never imagined this opportunity would come my way. I mean, I'd been with guys who wanted their butts slapped while I fucked them, I'd been with guys who wanted their tits manhandled before and during the fuck, I'd been with guys who liked being forced down on my dick, I'd been with quite a few guys who, in general, liked me to be rough, but I had never before been with a guy who openly admitted he wanted to be my sex slave. Part of me was scared to death, but the biggest part of me was burning with a life fire that had too long been suppressed, unrealized, and undiscovered except in the deepest dreams and fantasies. My mind raced in giant ellipses as it pondered the possibilities. I felt the blood surging in my temples, and, if it were not for my amber colored complexion, my face would have flushed with both anticipation as well as anxiety. I could not let this chance pass me by. I took a deep breath, grabbed Phil by his hair, and clamped my mouth onto his. "Suck me! Suck me hard so I can fuck that hole of yours some more!" I said as I pushed him down to my crotch. "Yes, Sir!" he responded with submissive eagerness. I watched him suck my condom covered cock, and my brain exploded with excitement. He never questioned the order, he merely obeyed. He had me semihard in no time. And, I sensed he would only do what was ordered and would always obey. "Take the fuckin' rubber off! Show me how much you love my dick!" I ordered. My dick was stripped in a flurries of finger, lip and tongue activity. He licked and kissed and sucked all in an effort to please me. This was hot! I grabbed Phil by the hair and forced him all the way down on my rod. "I'm gonna teach you to suck my dick the way I like it! Understand that, bitch?" I challenged. "Yes, sir! I'll do anything to please you, sir!" he eagerly and sincerely replied. "I want you to go all the way up and down on my cock, from the tip to the base, all the way up and down, real slow. I'll tell ya when to speed up. And, keep that fuckin' tongue action goin'!" I explained. Phil complied with every little instruction. This power trip I was on was driving me insane. I had to be careful; he had my nuts ready to explode again. I stepped away for him and starred at the puzzled look on his face. "If ya really want this dick, come and get it!" I teased. I held his head, keeping him at bay just inches from what he wanted. He stretched his tongue for just a taste of my flesh, but I always made sure his attempts were in vain. I kept stepping away, making him crawl to get anywhere near my tool. "Please, sir! Please let me suck your cock! I'll do a good job; I'll do it anyway you like!" he pleaded. "Take it, bitch!" I exploded forcing it in his mouth and down his throat. Phil took the pounding I was giving his throat. He slobbered, he gagged, he choked, and his eyes teared. But, he never once complained; instead, he seemed to relish every second of my dominance over him. I yanked Phil to his feet by his hair and ordered him to strip. I pushed him down onto the sofa, pounced on top of him, pinned his arms down and began to chew at his tits. I went easy at first, but the more I intensified the more he moaned and groaned in pleasure. His "Oh, yeses" got louder and louder. "You want some more of my dick in that ass of yours, don't ya, bitch?" "Please, sir, please fuck me!" "Beg for it, cunt! Make me know how much you want to feel my cock slide in your hole!" "Please, please, sir! I need your cock! Please I love your dick in my pussy!" "Your pussy?" "My asspussy belongs to you, sir! Please rape my ass again!" I love talking dirty to guys and making them talk dirty back, but this kid was wholly into this. He was humiliating himself for my pleasure. Hell, you better believe it worked. I moved up and squatted over his neck to reach my rubbers and some lube. He requested to lick my balls and ass. Being no fool, I granted the request. His tongue darted and flicked till my cock was twitching like crazy. You could have played follow the bouncing dick if you had song lyrics to run under it. I ordered him to lube his own butt and put the condom on my cock. It was only an instant before I had his legs in the air with my rod poised at his puckerhole. I watched his ass grip and release as I rubbed my dick up and down his crack. "Please! Please let me have it, sir!" he begged. I plunged forward and listened to his near scream. We settled into a rough and rapid rhythm. He was fucking back onto my cock as hard as I was shoving it into him. Despite Phil's moaning, groaning, begging and the furious fuck pace, I was nowhere near to cummin'. As hard as my throbber was and as much as I wanted to spill juice, I couldn't. It had not been like this since the weekend with my second fiance. In that case, I had taken some antihistamines. I couldn't get off easily or quickly, but I did fuck her into screaming multiples. But, this was better, much better. I figured that I'd just pound his hole for a while and then make him jacoff. Phil's moaning turned into a solid sound which was akin to a low pitched siren. He seemed to not breathe for a while and then pant for air. His assring got tighter and tighter around my cock, and that, of course, made me plow his ass even harder. His body went rigid. Phil grabbed me around the neck and kissed me till I could barely breathe. I felt his cum splatter on my chest and stomach. From out of what seemed like nowhere, my own orgasm came. I felt the cum spasm from my cock in waves. Each wave sent a shudder through my body until I had no more cum to give, and I collapsed in a fully spent heap. Thus began nearly three fully wonderful weeks of my life with Phil. Phil had been playing around since he was sixteen, and he had found his masochistic niche. He was also showing me my sadistic bent. I'd touched my toes over the vanilla line a few times before I met Phil, but, with Phil, I was way over the line - knew it and liked it. Phil was full of ideas and fantasies. I was doing a lot more reacting with him than generating the action on my own. When I got back to my apartment from class one day, Phil was waiting outside for me. I figured he wanted to go to dinner or something. He told me that he had something to tell me. When we got inside, he confessed that he had lusted after another guy that day. "I was bad, sir. I had those thoughts, but I belong to you, sir." he stammered in a little boy voice. Before I could say anything, he handed me a belt, pulled his shorts down in the back to expose his butt, and laid across my lap. He presented himself for punishment. I found myself fascinated by the pale fuzziness of his butt. Without exactly realizing what I was doing, I had clamped my hand around his neck holding his head down. I laid the belt aside for a bit and began lightly running my hand and fingers across his ass. My touch was so light that it brought goose bumps to his rump as he shuddered ever so slightly. I could also feel his already hard cock throb against my leg. Caught up in the moment, I lashed at his ass until his buttcheeks were red and warm. I ran my hand over them to feel the warmth, and I forced my finger inside to feel the heat. I rolled Phil off my lap and onto his back on the floor. I stood over him starring into his face; I placed my boot on his stomach and pressed an expelled breath from him. "Take off all your clothes, faggot!" Phil wiggled and squirmed to get out of everything but succeeded in doing just as I had asked. I then placed my boot on his erect cock and flattened it to his stomach. He grimaced in slight pain. "You gotta learn, son. When you belong to me, you belong only to me. You don't want to suck any cock but mine, and you don't want to feel any other cock in that hole of yours!" "Yes, sir! I promise to be good, sir!" I forced him to his knees and brutally lubed his butt with only spit using my two fingers. He moaned and pleaded for me to make his ass mine again. I threw off my clothes, rubbered my dick and shoved into him as roughly as I could without really hurting him. He screamed for the mercy of every deity above as I ravaged his hole with an angry lust. "You fuckin' cocksuckin' faggot whore! Who do you belong to?" I yelled. "You, sir! I'm your pussy, sir!" he managed. Sweat ran into my eyes and burned, and it seemed to drip from every part of my body. As I changed grip areas on his body as I plowed into him, I felt the wetness of Phil's body as well. He wasn't fucking back on my dick this time; it took everything he could muster just to withstand the throttling my dick was giving his hole. When I felt that familiar gripping of his assring, I reached around and stroked his rod. He came in a stream of garbled obscenities and pleas. I was right behind him, and I felt my cock release its load. We fell into a heap on the floor; both of us were clinging hard to our fantasies, to our dreams and to our deepening friendship. On several occasions, Phil led me to force him to suck me off in the car. One night in particular always springs to mind. We had driven out to the nearby lake to walk around. It was the later part of dusk, and no one seemed to be around. I sat on top of a picnic table, and Phil sat on the seat between my legs. We talked for a while before Phil leaned back and began massaging my crotch with the back of his head. He kept the gentle and intentional rubbing until he had me fully aroused. "You want it bad, don't ya, boy?" I inquired. "Yes, sir! Please let me taste it, sir!" he panted. I hauled my dick out of my pants, made Phil turn around and sit facing me, and teased him by rubbing my cock all over his face without letting him touch it or taste it. One of the things that Phil had become very adept at was sucking my dick. He had perfected my instructions. He would literally swallow my dick in the beginning and then slide up and down on it fully and slowly. He would gradually increase the pace of sliding up and down on it as well as licking the underside with his tongue. He could drive me crazy that way. I could lay back and enjoys myself for hours if I wanted. Phil would never tire or stop as long as he knew it pleased me. But, on this night he did stop just long enough to plead his case. "Please, sir. I've been a good boy. Please let me taste your cum." he begged. I hadn't thought about it until that moment. Phil had sucked me a lot, but I had never let him suck me off. Some guys are fully satisfied by a blowjob, but I'm not one of those. Having my dick sucked feels great, but I need to feel the intense hotness of fucking ass. Thus, I pretty much had always considered a blowjob as foreplay more than anything. However, Phil wanted to taste my load, and I had felt that he had more than earned the privilege. I made sure my balls were outside my pants, and I relaxed back on my elbows in the most comfortable position I could. "Suck it, bitch! Suck the cum out of my fuckin' pole!" I ordered. Phil went into a cocksucking frenzy. He licked, he kissed, he nibbled, and he slobbered all up and down my tool. I let euphoria take me. All the pleasure and all the sensations made me feel light and floating. Phil's hands moved all over me, touching, caressing and begging me to give in. His finger tips stroked my balls gently. I was definitely close, but I couldn't let go because it felt too good to let end. However, Phil's artfulness overcame my resistance. I grabbed his head and forced him all the way down on my dick as I began to spew. The automatic pelvic thrusts sent my dick to the back of his throat as it finished forcing out its load. Phil only gagged a little, and he held me tightly to his face. When the spasms subsided, I could feel Phil still working his magic. Like a soda straw at the end of the soft drink, Phil was slurping out every drop of cum he could. He finally removed his mouth, and he squeezed and licked until the last of my juice was his. "Thank you, sir. Thank you for letting me have your precious cum." he said as we regathered ourselves and headed for the car. As we slid into the car, the dome light revealed a large cum spot on Phil's shorts. Satisfying me really did satisfy him as well. Though from the beginning, it was easy enough for Phil and I to talk and relate to each other outside our role playing fantasy. Yet, it took about a week before we were comfortable enough to have sex of a more vanilla kind outside those borders. It was really good sex, but we both loved the intensity of the our domination fantasy. One of the best and wildest sessions occurred at work, at the hotel. Phil came back to the hotel after the bar closed. He had brought me a box of cigars as a present. He insisted that I try one. As he lit it for me, I noticed he was quite aroused. He sat in silence as I continued to do my work, but I was aware that he was transfixed on his cigar smoking partner. Finally, temptation got the better of me. I walked over to where he was sitting and placed my boot in his crotch as I starred at him. "You want something, son?" I teasingly queried. "I'm your whore, sir. I'll do anything you want in anyplace you want." he answered. I locked the entrances to the front desk area, set the switchboard to ring busy to all calls and took Phil into the bar. I made him strip, and then I ordered him to fetch me a coke. "On your knees, boy!" I commanded. Phil had always been swift to obey any command, and he wasn't slow with this one either. I made him kneel on the floor in front of me as I leaned against a table, sipped my coke, rubbed my crotch, and took a few puffs from the cigar. Each time when I blew the smoke in his face, his cock bobbed in ecstasy. I took my dick out and played with it, teasing him, tempting him. I toyed with him that way till he began dripping precum. I knew he was ready. "Suck it, bitch! Get it ready for that pussy of yours!" I said. "Yes, sir!" Phil gleefully replied. If it could have been possible, I would have sworn that Phil was more eager than ever before. He slurped my rod with the most sensual wetness yet. I let him go on for a while, and I occasionally face fucked him to keep him from getting me too close to the edge. Then I pulled him up and forced him backward onto the table. I took a melting ice cube from my drink and worked it into his butt. He moaned, so I worked in another. Hurriedly, I slipped on a condom and demanded entrance into his hot-cold slippery wet hole. I could feel the ice cubes when I first started fucking into him, but they soon melted with the heat of our rutting. Showing so little regard for him by not even undressing for the blowjob and the fucking had me tremendously turned on. I kept the rhythm varied because I wanted to make this screwing last. I would slow from time to time to take a sip of my coke and a drag on my stogie which I had carefully placed on the next table. I would then lean forward fucking him deep and hard, and I would blow the cigar smoke into his face. The fifth time I performed that ritual I grabbed his dick and squeezed. Phil shot cum a couple of feet into the air and screamed at the release. As his juice splattered on us both, I blew my nuts into his hole. He thrashed, I thrashed, and we nearly fell to the floor. But we held onto each other and enjoyed every mystical spasm. Being with Phil was great. He was a great guy. We were a great couple. Sex was never dull. Life was exciting, but I was in the right place at the wrong time. During the first week, Phil told me he loved me. I responded in kind because I did love Phil as much as I thought one man could love another man. By the beginning of week three, Phil was making life plans for us. I remember the joyous expression on his face as he began to tell me what he envisioned our future to be. And, I remember how that expression changed and saddened as I laughed at him and told him not to be silly. Though I hadn't a clue, I thought I had all the answers about my sexuality and life. I had figured that I'd mess around with men and enjoy myself until I found someone to fall in love with and marry. That's the way I thought it was, and, so, that's what I told Phil. The bubble had been burst, and the fantasy was ruptured. We went from seeing each other everyday to seeing each other two or three times a week. It then went to once a week, and, finally, Phil moved to Montgomery. Months went by before the little light bulb came on, and I realized what a total jerk I had been. I hurt Phil without meaning to do so, and I missed out on what could have been a wonderful and fulfilling life with him. I will always regret hurting him, but I cannot regret the rest - positive and negative. For each step I have taken was necessary to get me to where I am today. And, when I gaze into the downcast eyes of my number one "boy", the 6'9" ponytailed police dispatcher who loves me and will do anything I command to make me happy, I cannot be unhappy with where I am - now can I? ***** COPYRIGHT 1994 ******