By A. Richard Hunter
I grew tired of Southern California sometime in the early 1980's, with it’s traffic congestion, smog, crowded shopping venues, loud and vulgar people wherever I went, and separation from family, friends and acquaintances I had known since I was a teenager. So I moved back to the place where I grew up.
For most people, when someone talks about Phoenix, Arizona, their reaction is something like “Oh, I could never live there. It’s too hot.” But for me, Phoenix is a wonderful place. It’s newer and fresher than Los Angeles, having all of the same stores and conveniences and more - more because new businesses are always appearing yet Los Angeles doesn’t have enough space to accommodate them. Phoenix has a very active social life, typically about 350 days of sun and clear skies per year, and only 5 months of the year where the heat is somewhat unpleasant. But, why is Phoenix ‘too hot’ while ‘Palm Springs’ is a desert oasis? And, while Palm Springs may offer numerous golf courses, Phoenix has numerous rivers and lakes within an hour of the city, with boating and river tubing; and within a couple of hours are the beautiful resort areas of Northern Arizona with forests, camping, more rivers and the quaint yet elegant community of Sedona.
I was all settled into my new position, involved in a few community activities and enjoying being around my family and so many people that I had known for so long. I was living in a very nice apartment that was more like a small house attached to other small houses, and actively working with a real estate agent to find a place of my own.
This was the state of my life when I first saw him. I didn’t know his name or anything about him. It was like he was just, very suddenly, there. How could I not have noticed him before? It seemed apparent that he must have been around ‘here’ for awhile, at least, since there were several girls and a few guys gathering around him.
‘Here’ was church, and I had stood at the end of the meeting and was moving out of the row where I had been sitting. As I turned toward the rear of the chapel in the aisle, I spotted him just rising from his seat, about six or seven rows behind me. As it had always been with me, when I saw someone incredibly attractive, everything just seemed to shut down and I would drift off into an ethereal world all my own while my mind slowly processed the vision that my eyes were feeding it.
To me he was just simply gorgeous. He was thin with a small waist, long legged, his hair was neatly styled reflecting his attention to his appearance. His lips were full, his nose straight, his eyes deep set and soulful. As would be expected, he was nicely tanned, a marked contrast to the starched white button-front shirt he wore. As he turned to talk with one of the girls that had surrounded him, I noticed that the simple wheat-colored linen slacks he wore were nicely fitted at the hips and were extraordinarily complimentary to the small rounded cheeks that dominated the rear view.
I was snapped from my reverie as my mother pushed past me, pointing out a lady that had been expressing an interest in me and suggesting I go and speak with her. But, then what closeted - or even non-closeted - gay man has not had a mother still trying to ‘fix him up’ well into his adult years.
My eyes kept sweeping the area, taking in everything, memorizing the faces around him in case I had an opportunity to make an inquiry. I noticed two adults along the same row with a few smaller children and filed away the assumption that they might be his parents for a later time. A short time later, I would see these two adults, several smaller children, and ‘him’ climb into a minivan as the day’s services concluded. At least now it would be easier, and far more discreet, to find out who he was by asking my own parents who ‘his’ parents were.
It actually took several weeks before I was able to find out who the family was. They had just moved to our area from across town so, while new to our congregation, the younger members of the family were acquainted with their peers from school. I first learned the family’s last name and then pulled out the church membership directory to learn ‘his’ name. It was Eric, and he was sixteen, the oldest of the children in his family.
I made it a point to say hello to Eric’s parents each week. It was difficult for me since I was an extremely shy individual and decidedly insecure. But I made the effort and, apparently being one of the few people that had really made a point of being friendly and welcoming to Eric’s parents, we had soon become fairly well acquainted. When it was announced that the annual community theater competition was coming up - and more importantly that Eric’s parents had been selected to be the co-directors of the production - I hastened to offer my help in any way I could. I was certain that if Eric’s parents were directing the production, that Eric would be in the cast. Becoming a part of the production crew might be my ticket to getting to know Eric.
My instincts were accurate, but required some extra help. We had been getting together for practices and rehearsals two or three evenings a week for several weeks and, even though I was certain Eric now at least acknowledged my existence, we had yet to speak. I had learned that Eric was, like myself, rather shy and unable to be the first one to say hello. It seemed we were doomed to forever occupy the same space but never actually meet.
The first lucky break happened a week later. I had arrived early for rehearsal, the first one to arrive, and was sitting in my car waiting for someone with keys to the community center to open the building. I was thoroughly relaxed, the windows down and my stereo blasting one of the current top ten popular songs, when Eric’s family arrived. I didn’t see them at first as they parked about three or four spaces away from me, but the music was enough to catch Eric’s attention so that he looked over. That was when I turned and saw him staring at me with an expression of ... what? Envy? After all, what sixteen year old American boy does not lust after a sleek two-seater sports car and envy the owner of that car? I had learned in California that you are what you drive so, even though it had been a bit pricey, I had made the decision to buy what was at that time one of the hottest and most desired cars around - a 280ZX. It was a blatant attempt to get noticed, and I knew it, but for someone so incredibly shy and unable to meet people on his own initiative, the car seemed the right choice. At least maybe someone would come up to me and talk about the car and break the ice so I could meet someone new. Lame, right?
The rehearsal proceeded and I kept hearing Eric’s father encouraging the many teenagers in the cast to speak up - to project their voices - so that when the production was finally staged for an audience the people would be able to hear it. The seed of an idea began to germinate in my mind.
I had gone in search of an extension cord for the big spotlight. That had become my role as a member of the crew - I was the lighting director. I was experimenting with some colored lenses on the spot and trying to find a location in the large hall that would adequately illuminate the stage, thus needing a longer cord. As I proceeded down the hallway, Eric and a couple of friends came out of one of the rooms toward me. Eric’s eyes flickered up at me as he spoke to his friends - obviously a discussion of what each of them would drive to the junior prom that was fast approaching - and said “Maybe Mr. Allen will let me take his car.”
Since my name wasn’t Allen, it didn’t register with me and I continued on my way. I was a little bit jealous that this gorgeous boy knew Chuck Allen, an older man helping out with set construction, when I dearly wanted him to know me.
The following evening, another rehearsal was scheduled and everyone arrived and was ushered in to a large meeting room to discuss some of the problems that needed to be overcome as the live production date was coming up soon. The idea from the previous night took root in my mind and blossomed and I whispered to Eric’s dad my suggestion for improving one of the areas with which he was extremely concerned. The big man broke out into a grin and squeezed my shoulder as he got everyone’s attention.
“We’re still not getting enough volume out of all of you. If the audience can’t hear you, the judges will mark you down and you won’t win the competition. Mr. Hunter has made a suggestion for how we might help you to stay focused on volume.” I hadn’t expected - or wanted - what happened next since I detested any situation in which I was the center of attention. I was merely trying to score brownie points with Eric in the hope that he might speak to me so we could meet and get to know one another. I knew it was a long shot - what sixteen year old wants to be friends with a man of thirty-two - but it was worth a try. Instead, Eric’s father turned it over to me to explain my idea and my knees nearly collapsed with fear as some twenty-four teenaged boys and nearly that many teenaged girls turned to look at me.
I cleared my throat and finally found my voice. “I was just suggesting that there be some kind of reward, an incentive, for making certain you can be heard. Since I’m pretty much at the back of the hall and listening over the hum of the fan on the spotlight, if I can hear you then certainly the audience will be able to. So I proposed that tonight, since we’re having a straight thru rehearsal, if I can hear all of you speaking your lines throughout rehearsal, I will treat the entire cast and crew to anything you want at Swenson’s.”
You’d have thought I had offered them a million dollars. The room came alive. And, as Eric stared at me with a big smile, I knew that now, finally, he at least knew my name. Needless to say, having made that progress, there was no way that I would tell these kids that they weren’t loud enough. It was a sure bet that I was going to be spending a few hundred dollars at Phoenix’s most popular and most expensive ice cream parlor by the end of the night.
I thought the manager of the ice cream parlor would have a stroke when we walked in, almost fifty kids with about a dozen adults close behind. But the kids were well behaved and took seats around the large parlor and we managed to get all the orders in and everyone was definitely satisfied.
I was sitting at a table with Eric’s mother and father and one other woman, while the kids were spread out in booths and the other adults were at nearby tables. As it began to get late and the group started to break up, the kids walked by the table where I sat saying their polite “thank you’s”, some of the boys shaking my hand, a couple of the girls almost seeming to flirt with me. As Eric came by, he said “Thank you Mr. Hunter”, then almost as an impulse, he leaned over and hugged me and said “I love you like an Uncle.”
I was shell shocked, to say the least. I looked at Eric’s parents, likely blushing and fearful they would read my impure thoughts concerning their sixteen year old son. They were smiling and laughing. Eric’s father offered, by way of an explanation, “That’s Eric. He’s a very affectionate kid and as shy as they come, but when something motivates him to open up, he opens up all the way. Apparently ice cream sundae’s are the something that motivates him.” The man’s booming laugh shook the table and I had to laugh along with him, feeling a little more at ease now that I knew they hadn’t read my thoughts.
I guess it was always that way. Part of the reason I couldn’t come out of my shell. I always knew what I was thinking and worried that everyone else did, too. So I would try to act as though I was disinterested, or aloof, as a protection against the guilt that I felt. And, when someone cute caught my eye and showed some interest in me, I became cold, trying to act as though I was not gay - I guess out of a fear that once they got to know me they wouldn’t like me. Perhaps I should have studied psychology in school instead of law. I had always been shy but not so closed off as I was now in the days when I was a teenager. Perhaps it seemed acceptable to me then to lust after a boy close to me in age and now that I was older it seemed so unacceptable that I continually put myself through a ringer of guilt and recriminations.
After that evening, Eric became more friendly and would stop to engage in a little small talk occasionally. It continued this way for a few more weeks as we rehearsed and rehearsed and finally presented the production for a live audience and sets of judges. As the cast and crew of nine different productions gathered around the big hall, the head judge called attention so that he could announce the winners of the competition.
It seemed that we were sweeping the awards, hands down. First, we were awarded the honor for the best script. Then we won the honors for best direction. Then honors for best lighting. It was at this point that Eric turned around to look at me, standing about ten feet behind him, and made a point of clapping his hands over his excitement that we had won an award for my lighting. Then a couple of honors went to two other productions. When they announced that we had won for best overall production, I kept watching Eric. He was so excited he was jumping up and down, clapping his hands, yelling out, and grinning ear to ear. As he had been jumping about, he had moved to within just a few feet of me now. Thus, when they started handing out individual honors and he was recognized for his individual performance as a farmer of rather low intelligence, he began jumping wildly, up and down, spinning around, and jumped right up to me and threw his arms around me tightly. I was practically forced to jump with excitement right along with him, because he was still jumping and holding onto me so tightly that I had little choice in the matter. The hug lasted for almost a full minute, a long time under the circumstances, and particularly so since for the better part of that time he was hugging me so intensely that his face was practically pressed against mine - cheek to cheek.
It was one of those truly sublime moments that you remember forever and never want to fade from memory or lose any of the luster it had at the time when it was originally happening. As a reaction, I had thrown my arms around Eric as well and later scolded myself, certain that anyone - especially Eric’s parents - seeing us hugging like that would raise their eyebrows rather vigorously.
There were no repercussions. In fact, Eric’s parents decided to throw a cast party at their home and invited everyone who had been involved. Since Eric’s home had a pool, I was certain I would go in spite of my misgivings about crowds in a social environment. It was likely the only chance I would ever have of seeing Eric shirtless or in shorts. I was not about to miss such a treat for any reason.
As it turned out, Eric was wearing nothing but a pair of red gym shorts the entire afternoon of the party. It was like heaven had settled on Earth, in Eric’s back yard. I tried to memorize everything. His small waist, flat stomach and small navel, the very slight definition of his pectoral muscles, the small dark nipples, the slender arms and sparse, thin line of black hairs that were visible when he lifted his arms in the air to catch the volleyball. His legs were slender but with the evidence of muscle, short fine black hairs lightly sprinkling his lower legs. In sum, he was perfect.
The adults eventually were ushered indoors to allow the teens to enjoy the pool and the games that had broken out. About fifteen minutes later, Eric came in, picking up his little dog ‘Shotsie’ and sitting down in the middle of the floor. His father was right. He was a very affectionate, very sensitive boy and it was evident from the way he cradled the small dog. As I watched him, I was suddenly aware that Eric was sitting facing me at an angle, his legs spread wide as he sat on the floor paying attention only to his dog. I couldn’t take my eyes away. Gym shorts have no lining and he was not wearing underwear or a supporter and I was being treated to a clear view of his balls hanging in plain sight. He had black as midnight pubic hair that grew at the juncture of his legs and lightly peppered his balls. I couldn’t see high enough to see his pubic bush and his penis was apparently hanging toward the opposite leg and out of sight to me. But what I was seeing was causing a stirring between my legs and that frightened me.
It had been a long time since I had allowed myself to be aroused by another person. I had sworn that I would never again allow anyone to so completely become the center of my universe that their actions could make the difference between joy and misery for me. Yet, here I was, falling right into that trap again, and with a sixteen year old boy that I believed was the cutest and sexiest boy I had ever seen, whose parents were acquainted with my parents, and whose father was a police detective.
My arousal ended quite abruptly. I had been so lost in my thoughts and staring so evidently at Eric’s exposed balls, that I hadn’t noticed when he looked in my direction, noted my gaze, looked down, and quickly adjusted his position to end the show. When I looked up at his face, he had a questioning expression, still open and friendly, just not certain how to process the new information that had just confronted him or what conclusion to reach. But, when he rose to his feet, I couldn’t help but notice that there seemed to be a slight bulging at the front of the shorts.
As I had all my life, I simultaneously tried to tell myself that Eric was gay and attracted to me but just didn’t know how to make a move; and, that Eric was as straight as they came and I was just engaging in wishful thinking. Truth was, I had no clue as to what Eric’s preferences were or how I would ever find out. He was a complete enigma. Very outgoing and friendly one moment, very shy and withdrawn the next. Unembarrassed about appearing affectionate with other guys yet going out of his way, at times, to act quite macho. Seeming to show an interest in me yet constantly surrounded by girls and clearly to enjoying it.
One thing was certain, I knew - absolutely knew - that I had to try and get closer to Eric and get to know him well enough that I might have some chance of figuring him out. That chance came sooner than I expected.
At my office, one of our clerical staff quit suddenly and we were in great need for a replacement. At about the same time, one Sunday, Eric had mentioned he was trying to find work for the summer now that school was out. I mentioned the job that had come available at my office and he was excited about it. Since it was a position under my jurisdiction, I immediately offered him the job.
Eric’s only transportation at the time was a bicycle. Since my office was clear downtown - much too far to go on a bike - it was decided that Eric would ride his bike over to my apartment each morning by 8am and ride to and from the office with me. It was a perfect arrangement. I would have him all to myself for about an hour and a half each day during the commute, and see him constantly during the day. But things improved even more. I had made a bid on a house, a rather large red brick house that was half the distance from Eric’s house that my apartment was, and the bid had been accepted. I had been pre-qualified and was put on a 30-day escrow. Before I knew it, I was in my own house.
Eric would show up each morning and off we went. Eventually, it was easier just to give him his own key to my house so that he could let himself in when he arrived and I, when running late, could stay in the shower. I had summoned my courage on one occasion, answering the door with a towel around my waist and my body dripping with water. As Eric seated himself in the living room and I headed for the hallway and my bedroom, I allowed the towel to slip. It was a test but I was unable to know the outcome because I had not thought it through well enough. Eric never commented but I used it as an excuse for giving him his own key to the house. Somehow it seemed to strengthen the bond that I felt was developing between us.
Around the middle of the summer, Eric’s parents were due to take the family on a two week vacation. Eric confided that he didn’t want to go because he didn’t want to have to give up the job. He had argued with his parents extensively and they had told him that they would not leave their now seventeen year old son home alone for two weeks. I suggested that perhaps he could stay with me for those two weeks. That way he wouldn’t be alone, he’d have supervision, and could stay with his job. It took some further arguing on Eric’s part but his parents finally consented after calling me to make certain that it was my idea and not Eric pressuring me into it. I assured them I was fine with the idea. They had no idea just how fine.
The first night after Eric’s parents left, he and I went out to eat and then went to the entertainment center at the mall. We had a blast for a few hours before going home. After all it was a work night and for a couple of night owls, six a.m came mighty early.
Although my new house had 5 bedrooms, the only one that was furnished was mine. This provided a convenient excuse to have Eric sleeping in my bed without it appearing to be planned or contrived. I was new to the house, hadn’t had the time to furnish it all as yet, and no time for such arrangements since planning for Eric to stay with me had quite honestly been a very last minute decision.
Eric seemed a little reluctant, but I read his reluctance as his shyness and perhaps uncomfortable with being seen in his briefs. I offered him a pair of my short-legged pajamas and that seemed to put him at ease. Eventually he decided to just sleep in his underwear after all. We crawled into bed and I purposely moved slightly toward the center of the bed. Generally, I am ‘edge-sleeper’ but I was motivated to use up some of the room in the big bed so that I could at least be a little bit close to my beautiful boy. Eric didn’t seem disturbed and, in fact, seemed to also move away from the edge and toward the middle on his side of the bed. Being a large bed, there was still plenty of room but the psychological impact of being in bed with Eric - if only to sleep - was enormous.
Sometime during the night, Eric’s elbow bumped me and I awoke. At first I was disoriented and confused but eventually remembered that I was sleeping next to my young adonis. We were closer now. Close enough that I could feel the heat emanating from his body. Close enough that I could hear his breathing and, even in the dark room, see the rise and fall of his beautiful naked chest. My mind was racing, trying to think of a way to find out if he might be interested in me. We had become so surprisingly close in a relatively short period of time, once the ice had been broken, I really wanted to know just how close we were or could become. But, exhaustion overcame me and before I could devise any plan, I had fallen asleep again and was awakening to the sound of the birds outside my bedroom window.
As my mind cleared and my eyes focused, I heard - or rather felt - movement next to me and turned my head. Eric was laying on his side, facing me, his eyes wide open, watching. I smiled at him.
“I’ll let you use the bathroom and shower first and then while you’re eating breakfast, I’ll do my morning stuff. Okay with you?
Eric nodded in reply but made no immediate move to climb out of bed. For some reason my mind flashed upon a simple explanation: he had morning wood and was trying to will it away before climbing out from under the protection of the covers. What teenage boy in a similar situation would jump out of bed and practically hang a neon sign saying ‘Look at this” on their crotch? So, we lay still for a few moments until the alarm rang it’s second and final alert of the morning.
Eric rolled to his opposite side and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Standing, he was facing away from me and I was entranced by the fit of his briefs over so perfect an ass. I had seen a lot of teenaged boys naked in my life but by far, Eric had the best and most truly phenomenal ass I had yet seen. He had to walk to the foot of the bed, turn left and walk in profile along the foot of the bed, and then turn left again walking up my side of the bed, facing me, to get to the bathroom door. As he walked across the foot of the bed, I could see the clear protrusion in his briefs that his slightly swollen cock was making. But as he had to turn facing me, I could clearly see that his morning erection was more than I had thought. It lay up over his belly and off to his right side. He was not fully hard but certainly half the distance there. Had his briefs been a little tighter, I am certain I could have made out the shape of the head. But, I was satisfied - at least for the moment.
The bathroom was an elongated room that had windows on the left and, on the right, had the sink and counter top, then the toilet, and finally a tile enclosed shower with a glass door on the front. Since the head of my bed was against the external wall, I could look straight into the bathroom. And, as there was only a doorway and no door on the bathroom, I felt excited about the prospect of seeing Eric naked, at least from the back, as he climbed into the shower. But I knew I would need to be discreet so as not to give away my heavily guarded secret.
Eric first stopped at the sink and brushed his teeth, then turned toward the shower. My heart was beating in anticipation but dropped, precipitously, into my stomach when he stepped into the shower stall still wearing his briefs, then tossed them out, and turned on the shower. When finished, he reached out for a towel, dried himself, and wrapped it about his waist before exiting. I had turned my back to the bathroom before he stepped out of the shower stall so as to appear uninterested. Eric walked around the bed and into the closet where he had hung a few changes of clothes he brought with them, the closed the door while he dressed. I was beginning to see just how shy yet unpredictable Eric could be.
The day was fairly routine until about two in the afternoon. Eric came up to my office mentioning that his back was hurting, apparently from lifting file boxes all morning. I asked him if he needed to see a doctor and he quick to decline. He just wanted to try and stretch out the muscles and loosen them up.
“Where is the pain?”
“It’s tight in my neck and shoulders and all down my back, especially my lower back.”
I locked my office door and told Eric to lay on his stomach on the carpet in front of my desk. I knelt beside him and felt around his neck and shoulders, recognizing immediately how tight the muscles seemed. I began to massage his shoulders then gradually down his spine to his lower back. I pulled his shirt free of his slacks and placed my hands on his smooth, warm skin and began rubbing the muscles in his lower back slowly and deliberately. Eric stirred and I withdrew my hands, expecting to hear an objection, but instead Eric shift slightly, unbuttoned and removed his shirt entirely and then re-settled himself on the carpet. I spent almost half an hour massaging up and down his back, glorying in the joy of touching his body as he lay quietly, apparently enjoying the back-rub.
Eric didn’t seem to be in any hurry to end his massage. I theorized that if lower back muscles were tight, perhaps those muscles extended downward a little and, just maybe, I could convince Eric that the pain might be relieved if I massaged just a little lower. I presented my theory as fact to Eric, mentioning that the muscles did not appear to be easing up and probably were being strained by the connecting muscles a little lower. I questioned whether he wanted me to pursue the tight muscles further and he croaked a hoarse ‘yes’ in response. I told him he would need to loosen the waist of his slacks in order for me to reach the tight muscles.
I have no idea what was going through Eric’s head at the time but I suspect that the various signals I had been sending unintentionally over the past few months had enlightened him to my interests and that he was expecting I was trying to seduce him. I knew he was still a virgin, he had admitted that to me in a very innocent conversation, and clearly every boy, especially one who is a virgin, is anxious for sex and most will accept it from whomever will offer it - within limits of course. If this was Eric’s train of thought, he was greatly disappointed as my own shyness and fear of exposing my secret was too strong even for my raging lust and growing love for Eric to overcome.
Eric rolled on one side to unfasten his belt. I was a bit surprised that he chose to roll up on the side that presented the front of his body to me as I would have expected him to roll in the other direction. He unfastened his belt, unhooked the waist catch, and lowered his zipper all the way. As the fly of his slacks fell open, it was obvious that he was fully erect as his white briefs bulged out of the open slacks before he had rolled back down on his stomach. This sight, the feeling that Eric was giving me permission for more than just a back-rub, set my nerves aflame and I was as jittery as a newborn kitten in a dog-run.
I gently eased Eric’s slacks and briefs about halfway down his ass, and began to massage the smooth white cheeks, pressing firmly to demonstrate a real intent to ease tight muscles. I spent another twenty minutes at my task, occasionally rubbing up his back and returning to the half-exposed globes of his perfect ass. At one point I massaged the sides of his ass all the way down to the carpet and Eric moved a little, almost raising up that side as if inviting me to go further. It took great willpower but I quickly returned topside and Eric settled back down onto the carpet.
I finally finished and sat back on my heels, asking Eric if he was feeling any better. He agreed that he was and pulled his slacks and underwear back into place and closed the front of his pants, now being more discreet than before, and put on his shirt, arranged himself, and returned to work downstairs. I told him we would leave a bit early tonight and go home and have a swim as that might help to loosen up any remaining muscle tightness.
By four o’clock, we were home. Eric followed me into the bedroom and I pulled open a drawer in which I kept several pair of swim shorts of varying sizes just in case a cute boy came over to swim and was without trunks. In truth, the shorts were a backup plan. If I couldn’t convince a visitor to skinny dip or swim in their briefs, rather than losing the opportunity completely, I would offer them a pair of swim shorts to wear.
I selected a white bikini for Eric as it was his exact waist size. He seemed dubious about wearing something so small and skimpy but I assured him it was the only one in his size, unless he would rather swim in his briefs or an old pair of boxer shorts I could give him. Eric went to an empty bedroom and changed, but soon returned with the bikini in hand saying simply that it didn’t fit. What he was really saying was that the bikini was too small in the sense of the exposure it provided.
I made a second choice, a slightly larger bikini in a silvery material. This was actually a better choice in some ways because, in spite of having more material and coverage area, it was made of a material that supposedly became rather transparent when wet. I had only just purchased it so could not swear to its fulfilling the advertising promise, but I presented it to Eric with great hopes. He immediately rejected the suit as still being too small. My third choice was a pair of white cotton trunks with an elastic waist but no drawstring. The shorts were about three sizes too large in the waist but Eric chose them and went to change.
Meeting Eric out by the pool, we tested the water and found it to be pleasantly warmed by the afternoon summer sun. Eric had not been in my pool before nor really taken a look at it other than to see one end of it through the patio doors when he would sit waiting for me to finish dressing for work. Consequently, he was surprised and excited that this pool was fairly large, had a diving board and a deep end. Most pools had a maximum 7-foot depth because of a city ordinance meant to reduce child drownings, and since a 12-foot depth was required for a diving board, the pools could not have the diving board.
Walking out to the edge of the board and testing the spring, Eric bounced up and down lightly on the end, raising his arms over his head. I was struck again by how truly beautiful he was, his slim, sleek body, the musculature lightly evidenced beneath his smooth, tanned skin, the thin lines of hair under his arms and the light sprinkling of black hairs on his lower legs. Everywhere I looked was something to see that was magnificent and uniquely Eric and I felt the stirrings of arousal.
Eric dove cleanly, expertly, into the pool. I watched his slender form glide beneath the water’s surface and got the pleasant surprise of seeing his entire naked ass slicing through the water, the slightly overlarge shorts having been caught at entry to the water and been pulled down to his thighs. It was not a perfect view because of the rippling of the water, but it was my first full view of Eric’s ass, unobstructed by clothing, and I marveled at the perfect shape of each cheek, the wide and deep crevice between the two halves, the perfect rounding from top to bottom that I knew would defy gravity as he grew older.
Pulling his shorts into place, Eric emerged at the shallow end of the pool and climbed the steps. I dove into the pool and felt instantly re-invigorated by the cooling water and the manner in which it helped my rising erection slacken and subside. We spent an hour in the pool until, famished, I fired up the barbeque built at a corner of the patio, and grilled some chicken and steaks while Eric fixed mashed potatoes and cob corn in the kitchen.
The week proceeded and as Friday approached, I received a call from an old friend in Long Beach, suggesting I come out for a visit. He was surprised, yet pleased, when I suggested coming out immediately and even more pleased when I told him that if I did, I would be bringing a cute teenager with me. I quickly consulted with Eric and, having never been to California or the beach, he was more than willing to go along.
My old friend, Bob, was a boy lover extraordinaire. Twelve years my senior and a sales manager covering three states, he had stories that he had been regaling me with for almost a decade; stories of his conquests and successes at meeting boys and getting them into bed with him. While I was always aroused and excited by his stories, they always made me feel a little sad and guilty. Bob would refer to boys as ‘cute things’ as though they were merely objects. He was only concerned about his own gratification and, after seducing a boy who perhaps experienced that first-timers emotion of falling for the seducer, Bob was dismissive and would have nothing further to do with them. As one who truly loved boys and actually fell in love with the individual boy, I found Bob to be heartless and cold. But, he was my friend and was the man who had introduced me to Billy, my lover of five years, before he suddenly decided to go straight. The break up with Billy had actually been the catalyst for my decision to move back to Phoenix.
I obsessed all day over how to warm Eric and let him know what Bob was all about. Bob had no compunction in telling anyone that he was gay. In fact, he usually came right out and said it as a way to lay the groundwork for what would follow and weed out the boys who would call him names and run off, saving him the time of pursuing them when there was no chance of success. I finally decided I would be completely honest with Eric - at least as far as Bob was concerned - and if Eric took the information well it might even give me the courage to confess my own secret. Of course, I knew that Eric must have some degree of suspicion at this point, but nothing that he would be willing to take as gospel. But telling Eric about Bob, and his being my long time friend, might make him a little more certain that his suspicions were correct.
That evening, after dinner, I sat down with Eric on the sofa and told him I needed to discuss something very serious with him. He seemed a bit nervous, at first. I thought he might have been expecting I was going to open up to him. His right leg was bouncing on the ball of his foot which was generally an indication of nerves - or a boy who was horny. I was familiar with the sign because Bob and I had frequently driven through West Hollywood in years past, looking at all the cute hustlers on the streets, and Bob had repeatedly pointed out boys seated on bus benches, their legs bouncing. He had explained that they were either genuinely horny, or that they knew what the sign implied and were making their leg bounce as a means of broadcasting to passersby that they badly wanted sex.
I explained to Eric that Bob was a gay man who liked having sex with boys - generally anywhere between age thirteen and nineteen. I told him that Bob was basically a good guy and a long term friend, but I was concerned about taking him to Bob’s house for fear that Bob might do or say something to make Eric uncomfortable. I was especially concerned that Bob might make a move on Eric, but I didn’t voice that concern. I was in full-blown love mode where Eric was concerned and my value system provided no exceptions that would allow someone I loved to have sex with someone else. If Bob found Eric attractive, it was a given that he would pursue him. He had no choice, it was the way his mind was programmed.
Eric and I talked at length - mostly I talked since it seemed that Eric was listening intently but embarrassed or afraid to say much or ask too much. At the end, Eric was still anxious to go to California and we started to pack so that we could leave after work the following day - which was Friday. My mind was already at work trying to see how this little trip could prove advantageous to me in opening up to Eric and finding out if he liked me the way I liked him. When Eric rolled over that night in his sleep, placing his hand on my chest, I hoped it was an indication of good things yet to come.
Long Beach, California is a great summer place and I had always enjoyed Bob’s big house on a quiet tree-lined street of single family homes. The house was originally an old WWII era structure that had been remodeled and expanded before Bob purchased it. A very large bonus room had been added to the back of the house complete with brick fireplace and a full-service wet-bar. Although Bob was not a heavy drinker, he did enjoy his alcoholic beverages and kept the bar well stocked just in case he had a visitor that he needed to ply with liquor. Being one who hated both the taste and the smell of alcohol, I had neither used liquor or considered using it for such purposes. But then, it was all about love for me, while for Bob, sex was the only consideration and goal.
We arrived shortly after midnight at Bob’s house and dragged our limited luggage into the house. I made the introductions and watched the reactions closely. It was obvious that Bob felt an instantaneous attraction to Eric and had already put on his best salesman’s charm and charisma to win Eric over. On the other hand, as Bob seemed to get a little overly friendly, Eric moved in close to me, his arm brushing against my arm, his hip pressed against my leg.
“I think Eric’s a little tired, Bob. He worked a full day lifting file boxes and then the long drive here. Maybe we should just hit the sack so we can get up tomorrow morning and have a full day.”
Bob agreed, although clearly disappointed. He was not a patient man when pursuing a boy and his scruples were virtually non-existent when it came to boys. He had even seduced my lover Billy through claims that he could talk me into dumping him unless he had sex with him. This was two years into the relationship that Billy and I had built. I didn’t find out until much later and for several months I was unable to have anything to do with Bob. But, he had a svengali effect on me just as he did with boys. He could always manage to explain away his indiscretions, make me feel that I was being unfair to him, and convince me that I was better off having him as a friend. On that last point he always pointed to what he had done for me.
Early in our friendship, we had both been pursuing a British boy that was vacationing in Long Beach. I was unable to approach him, even though I was sure that he was gay, so Bob had stepped in and picked the boy up, brought him back to the house, and worked his magic with the boy. Once the boy was relaxed in the bonus room, stripped naked and half hard, Bob had left and sent me in. It had been the first sex I had had in a couple of years and actually developed into a relationship that lasted for almost a year until he had to return to England. We had continued a correspondence right up to the present day. Then there was the skateboarder that Bob had picked up along Ocean Boulevard. Bob had sex with him and, when the boy still wanted more, he had brought him down the hall to my apartment and introduced us. That very cute boy had apparently decided he liked me better and had continued stopping by on evenings or weekends for another year. And, then there was Billy.
With these examples, it was easy for Bob to convince me that my life would not be as fulfilling and exciting without his help and friendship. Thus, I was still somewhat under his Svengali control. But I was determined that nothing he could say would persuade me to let him make a move on Eric without my intercession.
Bob’s house was only two bedrooms and one bath. It was a perfect bachelor house in size and layout, not so much so when having visitors. Eric and I were shown to the guest bedroom which had originally been intended as the bedroom for a foster son that Bob was taking in. But Bob had encountered his most significant defeat when he attempted to get a little too intimate with the twelve year old boy and was dropped like a hot potato by the County when the boy talked about how Bob had rubbed his thigh and brushed his fingers against his balls through the leg of his shorts.
The bed in the guest bedroom was only a regular double bed. Not a queen size or anything more than just a standard double. It wasn’t really even long enough for me, and two guys, such as Eric and I, sleeping beside each other in that bed would have little free space between us. Needless to say, I was ecstatic.
Bob wished us goodnight and headed for his own room. I pushed the bedroom door closed, which Bob had conspicuously and intentionally left open. Eric needed to use the bathroom before turning in so I pointed it out to him.
The way the house was built, the guest room jutted out to the side of the main line of the house on the north side and was located next to the bathroom which was immediately to the east. The bedroom had a window looking east, and the bathroom had a window looking north. Normally, this would not have meant much, but when the house had been remodeled many years earlier by a successful regional manager of one of those party plan cosmetics companies, she had built a dressing counter at the east end of the bathroom with a full wall to wall, counter to ceiling mirror. Bob had discovered this quite by accident shortly after moving in and now kept the bathroom window wide open at all times.
A storage shed blocked any view of the bathroom window from any location except the bedroom window. Standing at the bedroom window, you could look in through the open bathroom window, and have a perfect view of everything going on in the bathroom because of the mirror. If that weren’t enough, Bob had spent hours figuring out just the right placement of a magnifying mirror on a telescoping arm and kept it positioned so that it was focused on the mid-section of a guy standing at the toilet to urinate. Bob had claimed to have seen the dick of every boy in his neighborhood and could tell you whether they were cut or uncut because of the magnifying mirror.
I had pretty much forgotten about the bathroom window until Bob came bursting into the bedroom practically as soon as the bathroom door had closed. He made a beeline for the bedroom window and slowly eased the slats on the shutters open and peered intently toward the mirror.
“What’s Eric doing?”
“You’re the one looking at him. You tell me. He said he had to pee.”
Bob turned to me momentarily. “Well I’ve never known anyone to have to take off all their clothes in order to pee. But I’m glad he did. Look at that ass!”
Curiosity finally won out and I went to the window and peered into the bathroom. At first I couldn’t see anything and then I moved my position a little and Eric came into view. Bob was right. Eric was completely naked but he had his back to the mirror. He sat down on the toilet which took him out of sight because the mirror was about two feet higher than the toilet. I found it amusing but also annoying that Bob would be so obvious in trying to see the boy I loved naked without so much as a ‘do you mind’.
I turned my back on Bob and continued unpacking when Bob suddenly closed the shutter on the window and left the room with a quick ‘see you in the morning’. That meant that he had seen Eric getting off the toilet and preparing to come back to the bedroom and he didn’t want to get caught.
Eric came in and I motioned him to close the bedroom door. “Anytime you use the bathroom from now on, close the bathroom window.”
I took Eric over to the window and pointed out the view available. “As soon as you closed the bathroom door, Bob came charging in here and headed for that window. I’d forgotten about it after all this time but Bob apparently was prepared. He was watching you the whole time saying things like ‘why does he have to take off all his clothes to pee’ and ‘man what an ass’. So if you want any privacy in the bathroom while you’re here, just remember to close the window when you go in there.
Eric nodded and then quickly moved some clothes into the closet and stripped to his briefs. At home, for the past week, he would strip to his briefs seconds before diving under the covers. Now, he was in his briefs and making no move to get into bed. He wandered around the room looking at pictures on the wall, little knick-knacks, and looking out the window. He seemed in no hurry at all as I finished my unpacking and then undressed. Only when I was ready to climb into bed did Eric get in and slide to the opposite side against the wall, making as much room as he could for me. Even with Eric all the way over, our shoulders were still rubbing against each other and I felt a flush from the realization that we were together, in our underwear, in such a confined space.
Reaching up and turning out the light, I bid Eric goodnight and, in spite of my best intentions I was asleep within minutes. Sometime around 3am, I awoke. It took a moment for my head to clear and to realize that Eric had shifted and the leg closest to me was pulled up so that his knee was in the air like a tower and his foot was resting on top of my leg. He seemed to be soundly asleep, his breathing slow and regular. I lay still, analyzing the situation for a few minutes and trying to work up my courage to do a little exploring in the same way I had when I was thirteen and had a friend over for the night.
Finally, making my decision, I moved lightly and groaned as if I was moving in my sleep. In doing so, I moved my arm and rested my hand on the inside of Eric’s thigh. I allowed my hand to slowly slide down his smooth thigh until the edge of my hand was resting on Eric’s crotch. I remained still for long minutes to see if there was any reaction. When Eric didn’t move or make any sounds, I gradually turned my hand palm down to cup Eric’s genitals and explore the treasure there.
I felt around gently, being careful not to make any quick movements or apply any pressure. Eric’s balls bulged in his briefs deeply between his legs and it was clear that he was one of those boys blessed with low hangers. Eric’s cock lay up over his abdomen and seemed to be completely flaccid. It was a dream come true and I couldn’t stop myself from continuing to caress the prize I had discovered. After a few minutes, I noted that Eric’s cock seemed to be growing. I stopped exploring but when there was not movement or sound, I assumed that Eric’s expanding cock was merely a natural reaction to my caresses and that he was still asleep. But, when I felt a wet spot on his briefs where the head of his cock rested, I thought I’d better stop. I didn’t want to cause him a wet dream. That might be really pushing my luck.
As I removed my hand and placed it back on the bed beside me, Eric stirred. His arms stretched out and he yawned audibly. His arms moved apart from each other as he stretched and his left hand brushed across the bulge in my briefs. Then, yawning again, he turned on his side, his back to me, and went back to sleep.
My mind was racing. Had he been awake as I was feeling him up? If so was he enjoying it? Was his stretching and touching my semi-hard cock just an accident or was he checking to see if feeling him up was causing me to get aroused? Had he purposely manipulated the situation with his foot on my leg, offering me the opportunity which I took advantage of? Did he turn his back to me as a way of telling me he wasn’t interested or because he had given up on my making a move and wanted to get some sleep? Sleep won out and I was soon dead to the world and probably snoring.
I awoke again at about seven o’clock to the sound of the bedroom door opening. It was Bob sneaking into the room in the hopes of catching Eric uncovered, or perhaps hoping that I might have made a move and that Eric would be nude. He was so bold as to walk up to the foot of the bed and try to look under the sheets, at which point I moved and groaned and he quickly left the room.
Eric was back laying on his back, still sleeping peacefully. In the morning light, I could look at his face as he slept and was struck by how handsome and angelic he looked when sleeping. I knew at that moment, without a doubt, that what I felt for him was a lot more than lust or a crush.
I adjust the sheet that was over us and it settled down. At the place where Eric’s crotch was under the sheet, there was a substantial bulge and it was clear that Eric had a major morning erection. I would have loved to have reached over and caressed it and explored further, perhaps have a chance to get a real idea of its length and thickness, but I thought I had probably used up all of my luck during the night.
I was wanting to get out of bed but there was no way I would get up so long as I could lay in bed next to Eric. I lay perfectly still, listening to him breathe and just thinking how fortunate I was. He moved a little and rolled over on his side toward me. His knee came out and was gently placed directly over my crotch as his hand rested on my upper arm and his face rested against my shoulder. I could feel his warm breath on my skin and the touch of his hand on my arm was almost electric. But it was the feel of his knee, his leg, resting atop my genitals that was sending nuclear pulses to my brain. My cock was responding rapidly and was at it’s full eight inches within thirty seconds.
When Eric had moved, my arms had been at my sides and I suddenly realized that the palm of my hand was directly next to Eric’s own crotch. All I had to do was lift my hand off the mattress and I would make contact. I figured as long as Eric was giving me a cock massage with his knee, I should take the opportunity to explore.
Raising my hand ever so slightly, I contacted Eric’s cock. As I had hoped and expected, he was hard as a rock and stretching his briefs to their limit. I gently felt up and down the length of the pole and squeezed it between my fingers to get an idea of the thickness. It was impressive, probably a little over six inches but fairly slender without being too much so. Since I wasn’t a size queen, it didn’t matter that much to me.
I noticed a change in Eric’s breathing, both from hearing his breathing as well as feeling his breath on my shoulder. I dropped my hand to the mattress and pretended to be asleep. Eric seemed to awake and sat up in bed. I allowed him to believe that his movement awoke me and I opened my eyes and looked up at him.
The sheet had fallen off his chest and to his lap when he sat up, but the pole rising from between his legs still caused a rise in the crumpled sheet. Not seeming to be concerned about my seeing his erection, he threw off the sheet and climbed over me to get out of bed, giving me a wonderful view of the jutting pole behind the cotton briefs, and threw on a robe and headed for the bathroom. I was sure he was needing to find some relief, perhaps having hoped I would give it to him but finally running out of patience.
I quickly checked the window and Eric had faithfully followed my suggestion and the window was closed. I was relieved a moment later because Bob came rushing in and went directly to the window. For some reason his little curse was music to my ears. I definitely did not want Bob watching my baby - ohmigod, did I really think that just then - as he engaged in the most private of activities and stroked his beautiful cock to release.
It was that moment that I decided I had to take some kind of aggressive action. If Eric really wanted me to make a move and I continued failing to do so, I might forever lose my opportunity. And, that lost opportunity might be nothing more than missing a chance to suck him or it could be missing a chance to build a real relationship with him. Either way, I had to do something. But what?
We went to the beach. It was something I will forever recall. Eric was like a little kid, experiencing the salty smell of the ocean, watching the waves, being knocked over by the waves and arising spluttering, and walking barefoot in the sand. Just watching him as he experienced so many ‘firsts’ that day was a true joy and I hated when it had to end.
Because there were three of us, Bob insisted that we not get into his car with our wet things on and damage his seats. Since Eric was the only one who had gone in the water and was, consequently wet, and since Bob’s car had leather seats, it was clearly just one more of Bob’s attempts to see Eric nude. There was no doubt in my mind that Bob would find some excuse or justification to be present when Eric changed but I couldn’t think of anything to say to prevent it from happening. I gave Eric one of my little ‘alert’ looks and got a little nod in response. He had already figured out Bob’s intentions as well.
We got into the men’s room and, for the moment it was empty. Bob started to suggest, quite strongly, that Eric take off his swim trunks and then shower off to get the sand off of him, but there was no sand visible and Eric politely refused. I tried to lead Bob away while Eric changed but Bob kept coming up with new things to talk to Eric about, obviously hoping Eric would give up waiting and just change in front of him.
You have to give teenagers credit for being able to think fast on their feet. I would never have thought of it. Eric headed for a toilet stall, excusing himself to use the toilet, and took his cutoff denims with him. When he returned a few moments later, he was all changed and his wet swim shorts were wrapped in his towel. Bob was clearly annoyed. I was jubilant.
Lest I portray Bob as a completely evil and conniving soul with no moral values (which I guess he was) let me also say that he, in his own way, tried to be a good friend and to look out for my interests - as long as my interests were not at cross purposes with his. Back at the house, while Eric now showered leisurely - with the window closed - Bob inquired about my feelings for Eric and whether I had any indication of Eric’s orientation or any feelings for me.
It was good to be able to openly discuss this topic since Bob had always been the only one that I could be completely and unequivocally myself around. Even other friends who knew I was gay were not people I could completely open up to. With Bob, we had always been each other’s sounding board and it was this, more than anything else, that kept our friendship together through many ups and downs.
I gave Bob the full detail of every thing that happened between Eric and I, my take on each occurrence and my fears that I might misread the signals and make the wrong move. Having misread signals in the past, more than once, I was terrified of making a misstep and creating a problem that would most definitely involve my family sooner or later. I was one of those men who completely lacked ‘gaydar’ - in fact I had trouble believing that it even existed as I had never had it and most of the gay men, in my experience, who claimed to have it and rely on it were queens who seemed to believe that every “tender morsel” wanted them. “Tender morsel”? That’s even worse than Bob’s reference to boys as “cute things”.
In any event, Bob was convinced that Eric was trying to give me opportunities to make a move. But, he cautioned that he might be inviting my advances for a completely different reason than what I was hoping for. Bob was only too aware of my nature. In two of my past three relationships, I had been a Sugar-Daddy. My instincts were toward generosity because I received joy and satisfaction from doing things for others that I felt strongly about. Bob was concerned that Eric’s motives might be to either place me in a position where he could extract money from me or simply to encourage my feelings for what he could get.
“Why would you say that? Has Eric said anything to you?”
“No. I haven’t been alone with him for ten seconds, so how would he? I’ve watched you two. You look out for him, you care about him. But he’s in his own world. He doesn’t seem to pay a lot of attention to you or ask what you want. You know I have a keen eye and I haven’t seen him, even once, show any interest or cast a passing glance at any of the cute boys that were at the beach today. Doesn’t that seem strange?”
I mused that over. It only served to reinforce my doubts and cast a pall over my previously planned action of making my move in bed that night. I had been certain that Eric was trying to encourage me that morning, bumping my erection when he stretched his arms, placing his knee on my crotch and causing an erection, and climbing over me with his erection just a few inches from my face. But what Bob was saying made a lot of sense. He had a very quick and analytical mind that seldom failed him.
“When he comes out, why don’t you go and shower and give me a few minutes to talk with him.”
“Yea, what you mean is a few minutes to try and get into his pants.”
“No, I mean strictly to talk. I wouldn’t try anything when you could walk in at any moment and catch us.”
“Well.” I was weakening. But, maybe letting Bob talk to Eric might help him to analyze all the data and give me some firm advice. It was worth the risk, wasn’t it? I never thought to ask what it was that he might be planning to ask Eric. And later, when I asked Bob what had been said, he demurred saying only, “It was a good conversation but I promised Eric that I would let him be the one to talk with you, so I can’t say anymore.”
That night was a complete repeat of the previous night. I awoke with Eric’s foot resting on my leg, began by caressing his raised leg and allowing my hand to fall to his crotch where I gently felt the soft penis and spongy balls hidden beneath his cotton briefs. When he became aroused, I explored the hard tube and came close to inserting my hand inside his briefs to feel the treasures I had found without the briefs in the way. But I chickened out. As I removed my hand, Eric stretched his arms, grazing my erection with his hand as his arms stretched out, and again grazing it with his hand as he pulled his arms back. Then he turned on his side with his back to me as he had done the previous night and went to sleep. I drifted to sleep about an hour later after a fitful period of mentally berating myself for lacking the nerve to take a chance that could bring untold joy and happiness to my life.
In the morning, when I awoke, Eric was still laying on his side, facing away from me, but had moved closer during the night. Rolling onto my side toward Eric, I was spooned up against him and allowed my arm to drape over his side, my hand palmed against his chest. I was enjoying the moment when, in a breath stopping moment, Eric moved slightly, almost imperceptibly, back against me. I was panicked because his ass was now pressing against my crotch and I was certain he could not help but feel my erection. But I was still not convinced that his actions were intentional and anything more than the movement of someone asleep, moving unconsciously toward the warmth of another body.
When neither of us could sleep any longer, Eric pulled away and went to the bathroom for his morning ritual. In a couple of hours we would leave for home and I was despondent that I had wasted so many opportunities. Without really thinking, I looked out the bedroom window and noticed that the bathroom window was wide open. Through the window and in the mirror I could see Eric standing in full view, completely naked, his erection at a forty five degree angle from his belly. He didn’t seem to be doing anything more than posing for several minutes as I stood watching, transfixed by the sight I had been longing to see for so many months. I was reminded how beautiful he was.
Finally, Eric turned and stepped into the shower and I sat listlessly on the edge of the bed, committing the sight to memory, certain it was a view I would never again have. I felt like I was going crazy. At my age, I should have more control over my feelings and emotions or at least have the balls to act on them. I should be able to overcome my fears of, what? - rejection? ridicule? embarrassment? public humiliation at church among people I had known for almost twenty years? all of the above?
When Eric returned, wrapped in a towel, I quickly headed for the bathroom for my own shower, almost afraid of being in the same room with him with the rush of conflicting feelings and fears that were becoming so overwhelming. When I returned, Eric had packed both of our bags and was in the kitchen having coffee with Bob. We spent the next thirty minutes having coffee and cold cereal and just chit chatting until it was time to hit the road for home. Bob promised to come to Phoenix on business and for a visit soon, giving me a sympathetic look and a slight shake of the head. As we backed out of the driveway, at eleven in the morning, I felt suddenly exhausted and drained.
We were on the freeway, making good time, passing through Blythe and just a couple of miles from the Arizona border when Eric finally spoke up and said something more relevant than “It’s hot today, isn’t it?”
“Bob was talking to me last night when you were in the shower and he said that you’re gay. Is that true?”
I swallowed hard. At first I was going to deny it and claim that Bob was just trying to get into Eric’s pants and was using that line to help. But, I decided that I needed to be honest. At least I would find out how Eric felt about it and since I hadn’t really made a move on him I could always claim just a friendly or fatherly type of interest in him if he reacted badly.
“Yes. Does that scare you?”
“No. Just wondering if it was true.”
I waited and kept waiting for something more but Eric had returned to silence. The biggest reaction to my statement was that there was no reaction at all. I didn’t know how to decipher that, what to think, what to say. The miles kept passing and we were finally home without any more significant conversation.
It was getting late and since we had stopped to eat on the outskirts of Phoenix, we simply dragged our bags into the house and decided to turn in. Before undressing, I looked at Eric and as he turned toward me I forced myself to speak.
“Did you have fun? Was California everything you expected?”
Eric’s face lit up into one of his beautiful smiles. “Absolutely. It was a blast! Can we go out there again sometime?”
“Sure.” Without thinking, pretty much on some kind of remote control, I had moved toward him and threw my arms around him. “I’m glad you had fun. I like making you happy.”
Eric’s arms came up around me in response. “Thanks. It’s fun being with you.”
Nothing happened that night or for the remaining nights Eric was staying with me until his parents returned home. Nothing more had been said about my being gay and I was fearful that Eric was distancing himself but in a way that would not be entirely noticeable. He had slept well onto his side of the bed and there had been no further opportunities for me or indications from him of a potential interest.
Two days before the end of summer and the last day of Eric’s summer employment with me, he came to my office with a headache. I gave him a couple of aspirin and had him sit on the sofa and lean back while I massaged his temples in places where I knew pressure points to exist from my years of migraines. After a few minutes he settled back further until he was laying back against my chest. When my hands grew tired and required a brief rest, I just laid my arms over his shoulder and crossed them at the wrists on his chest. He made no move to resist and seemed content just to lay there in my arms. I was beyond content.
We were interrupted by the buzz of my intercom and my secretary advising me that I was needed in the conference room. I told Eric he could stay there and rest until his headache was gone but when I returned after only ten minutes he had returned to work downstairs. As he strapped his bag to his bicycle that evening at my house, he threw his arms around me and thanked me for the job, the California trip and the fun summer. I couldn’t resist kissing him on the forehead and telling him it had been my best summer also. He waved as he rode off toward home.
My life returned to normalcy - meaning it was extremely boring and unfulfilling - now that I didn’t have seeing Eric to look forward to each morning for the ride to work. The only time I saw him was at church and that was fleeting, each of us seemingly embarrassed about what we had experienced over the summer. Even though nothing had actually happened, I felt exposed and a little sheepish around Eric and, for his part, I could only assume that he was either embarrassed at knowing things about me or at having some disconcerting feelings of his own. It was enough to keep me awake nights with recriminations over my cowardice, speculations over what might have been and worry of what might come.
As the weeks turned into months, it seemed that Eric was more and more distant and even seemed a bit surly. His attitude was never directed toward me but I could read a very definite change in his overall demeanor that gave me pause for concern. Everything was explained one night when I got a call at about seven o’clock and heard Eric’s voice on the telephone.
“I’m in Long Beach. I was trying to find Bob’s house but I can’t really remember enough about where it is. Can you help me?”
I was thunderstruck by a wave of panic and nausea at the thought that Eric was trying to find Bob. I knew what would happen and I knew I couldn’t allow it. “Uh...yea I could but it wouldn’t do any good,” I lied. “Bob’s in Connecticut with his family for a couple of weeks. Why are you in Long Beach?”
“I couldn’t take it anymore so I took my mom’s car and ran away.”
I had sensed something was wrong but had not expected this. I had experienced my own teen frustrations and run away from home a few times to an uncle’s home in the northern part of the state but I was curious as to why Eric would choose to go to Bob’s.
“I figured he would let me stay for a few days while I decided what to do. And I would be where my folks couldn’t find me.”
My mind was spinning. Of course Bob would let him stay. But was he willing to pay the price that would be demanded of him? Was this another indication that he wanted something that, so far, I had refused to give him? Was this a cry for affection, for love, that he wasn’t getting at home?
“Look, Eric. Come on back home and come to my place. You can stay here for as long as you want or until you decide what you want to do.”
Eric’s voice seemed so small on the phone and so relieved. I couldn’t help wondering why he would feel he had to get away without giving me the chance to help him. It couldn’t have been that I was gay as that would have precluded Bob as a choice. Had I somehow let him down or given him the impression that I didn’t care?
Less than five hours later, Eric was at my door. He looked tired and hungry. Wanting to be comforting and supportive I took him in my arms. I could almost feel the strength drain out of him as he relied upon me to keep him upright. Sitting him down at the dining table I quickly fixed him some bacon and eggs and sat watching has he shoveled the food into his mouth. This was a hunger born of more than a single day.
“When did you run away?”
“Day before yesterday.”
“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”
“Yesterday morning. I had breakfast as if I was going to school and then just left. I’ve been driving all around Long Beach trying to recognize anything to help me find Bob’s place and I couldn’t even remember his last name to look him up in the phone book.”
“He’s unlisted anyway. I guess you haven’t slept any, either.”
“I got a couple of hours in the car last night before the cops came along and told me I couldn’t park there overnight. I just didn’t want to spend any of my money for anything other than gas until I knew what the situation was going to be.”
“Well, you’re here now and everything will be fine. Do you want to shower or take a bath? Do you have the energy to stay on your feet in the shower?”
“Yea. I think I need a shower but it will probably relax me. I’ve been so tense.”
I led Eric in and through my bedroom to the bathroom, pulling out a fresh towel from the chest of drawers as we passed. I started to walk away but Eric called me back.
“Can you stay and talk to me. I just don’t feel like being alone right now. I’ve never done anything like this before and it’s kind of freaked me out. I keep wondering what my dad is doing?” Eric’s father, a police sergeant, had probably put out an APB on his missing son within an hour of Eric not coming home the previous night. Eric’s mother was probably sick with worry and I instantly flashed back on a time that Billy had gone with friends overnight without telling me and how I had been desperate with worry, having visions of his body laying in an alley somewhere.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to avert my eyes so as not to be too obvious in watching Eric undress. It was almost six months now since we were last together and that last morning in Long Beach when he had stood in Bob’s bathroom, naked and erect, posing in front of the mirror. I was expecting a return to the more shy boy I had known, expecting him to step into the shower and then toss out his underwear.
As I discreetly watched his upper body come bare and his slender fingers unbuckling his belt, I began to feel feverish and chilled at the same time. Eric was standing in the middle of the bathroom, facing me, as he pushed his levi’s down over his hips revealing that he was not wearning underwear. The shiny black pubic bush came into view through the spread of the fly and then gradually revealed more and more. His penis hung about four inches soft, his low hanging balls the same length and acting as a beautiful backdrop. He was only seven or eight feet away from me, the first time I had seen him frontally naked except through a window and a mirror at a much greater distance, and I was transfixed. My eyes just continued to sweep up and down over his entire naked body and I was have to breathe through my mouth rapidly in order to supply enough oxygen for my fast beating heart to send to me brain.
I was brought out of my reverie when Eric walked up right in front of me. “Did you hear me? If I call out will you come help me? My legs are kind of weak so if I start feeling like I’m going to faint or something, I’ll call you. Are you alright?”
Eric’s genitals were six inches from my nose and it took every ounce of my will power not to reach out and touch them or to lean forward and take his penis in my mouth. But I cleared my head and agreed that I would stay nearby to come and get him if he called out, and then watched that perfect ass walk away from me and disappear into the shower.
Within ten or twelve minutes, Eric was out of the shower and my eyes were feasting on his form once more as he toweled himself off. He was being so open, seemed so comfortable with his nudity, that it was as though he was a completely different boy. But why would I want to complain. I had longed to see him in this way for so long, had spent so many sleepless nights over the past eight months fantasizing about a moment such as this, that I wanted to truly enjoy it in case it never happened again.
Finally, Eric slipped on a pair of gym shorts, without underwear, and came back into the bedroom and sat down beside me. “I’m really tired. Can we go to sleep now?” When I nodded and stood up, he quickly slipped under the covers of my bed and slid over to the other side - his side of the bed. I cast off my own clothes helter skelter and joined him in bed in mere seconds.
Eric was sound asleep in no time while I lay beside him, hyped to the max and wondering if I was being given a second chance. I had been laying there for about an hour, still awake, when Eric rolled over in his sleep, slipping an arm about my waist and resting his head on my chest and shoulder. My first instinct was to bring my arm up around his shoulders but when I moved my hand, it was pinned under his hip. Pulling gently freed it from beneath his weight and I slowly retracted it further until I was able to place my arm around his back. With my opposite hand, I caressed his smooth cheeks and traced the outline of his lips. It was an entirely instinctual reaction or I would never have had the courage to be so bold. The situation inspired me to do the one thing I had so wanted to do for so long.
“I love you, Eric.” My whispered words were so pleasing to my ears, finally being able to hear myself express my feelings for this true love of my life.
“I love you, too.” Eric’s whispered reply shocked me. I had been certain he was asleep but the tightening of his arm around my waist and the movement of his body changed my opinion. As his lower body moved closer to mine, I felt skin on skin. Eric’s erection was free of his shorts, protruding from the short leg opening, and was dancing against my leg to the beat of his heart, just below the seam of my briefs. I tightened my hold on Eric as well.
“I’m so tired........” and with that Eric was sound asleep once more. My emotions were in turmoil. Eric had told me he loved me and was very obviously awake when he snuggled up to me. The excess of emotion was exhausting and before long I had drifted into a dreamland filled with nothing but goodness and love and happy endings.
When morning came, I found myself unentangled, with Eric laying on his back, one arm swung over his head on the pillow. I picked up the phone from the nightstand and called my secretary’s voice mail to let her know I would not be in, then settled back against my pillow to watch Eric’s sleeping beauty pose and angelic face. The sheet over his midsection was wildly tented and I couldn’t resist lifting the sheet to look. As hoped, his erection was still protruding outside of his gym shorts and I got my first closeup look of his magnificent erection. It was as straight and cylindrical as a piece of pipe, not thin any longer but not too fat, with a full cap at the tip that looked very much like an old German soldier’s helmet. Like the rest of Eric, his erection was perfect as well.
Throwing caution to the wind - or at least casting aside my trepidations - I rolled over on my side and began to lightly caress Eric’s chest and belly with my hand, feeling the little ridges of muscle, his ribs, running my fingers through the sparse hair of his exposed underarm, teasing the small brown nipples that adorned his chest and testing the depth of his navel. I allowed my hand to find its way over his shorts and my fingers to explore and feel the contrast of the soft skin overlaying a steely-hard cock, tickling at the head and then lightly grasping the shaft and stroking it up and down several times.
“It’s about time!” I looked up into Eric’s smiling face, my eyes filled with tears at the realization that dreams - or at least this dream of mine - appeared to be coming true. “At first I didn’t know if I was reading you right and it made me shy and cautious. Then at Bob’s when you felt me up and I detected that you had a hardon, I really thought you might be gay and like me. But you wouldn’t make any real moves and so I started doubting again and thinking maybe it was just a dream in your sleep or something. Then Bob told me you were gay and that he thought you were in love with me. But I gave you the chance on the drive back to say something but all you did was to admit you were gay. So then I lost hope thinking - okay you were gay but you didn’t have feelings for me - that maybe your feeling me up was just that you were gay and I was available. So I stayed away because it was so frustrating being around you and wanting to tell you what I felt but afraid you wouldn’t feel the same way. Calling you last night was my last shot at trying to find out for sure if there was anything to keep hoping for. I had planned to call you from Bob’s, thinking if you really loved me you would come rushing out to get me but that got screwed up. So, when I got here I just decided I’d make sure you saw me naked, and I would make some moves while pretending to be asleep and see if I got a reaction. I was prepared to shove my hand down the front of your briefs if I had to.”
I laughed, I cried, and I raised up and leaned over Eric’s face and pressed my lips against his. After waiting for so long, the taste of his soft, full lips was like the sweetest honey and the effect on my mind was like the strongest wine. Eric rolled toward me and we wrapped our arms around each other as our mouths opened simultaneously to the explorations of each other’s tongues.
My hands caressed down his back and inside his shorts to feel the surprisingly firm globes of my baby-boy’s ass, the soft smooth skin that overlay the solid muscle beneath. A few fine hairs adorned the wide, deep crevice between those cheeks and I tickled at the small aperture which protected his most valued treasure. I gasped with delight as Eric’s hand went down the front of my briefs and wrapped around my erection, then pulled the front of my brief’s down to allow himself greater access. He dove under the covers briefly and then re-emerged with a look of awe.
“You’re enormous! I can’t believe everything that has happened and I didn’t know you were so big. You must think I’m a midget.”
“You, my sweetheart, are perfect in every way. You’re more than average and I’m not really all that big. There are tons of guys with cocks that would put mine to shame. If it pleases you, it pleases me. And yours definitely pleases me!”
We were now feverishly stroking each other until I suddenly stopped and pushed him away. He looked worried for a moment until I threw the sheet off his body, sat up and pulled the gym shorts down over his long legs and tossed them to the floor.
“I have been wanting to make love to you almost since the first time I saw you. All the times we’ve been together I thought I would go crazy if I couldn’t make love to you. But the wait has been worth it. It will make this moment so much more special because it has taken us so long to get here.”
I leaned over and allowed my tongue to dance wetly over the head of Eric’s cock. The taste was of flesh, bland on the tastebuds but dynamite to the brain. Eric’s hips moved involuntarily as I teased his sensitive, virginal flesh with my tongue and swiped up and down the shaft as though I were licking an ice cream cone. My fingers tickled at the crook of his leg and through his pubic bush, my eyes taking in every detail as my mouth continued it’s work of delivering sublime pleasure to my baby-boy. Finally, I impaled my face on his erection, taking it all the way down to the root, and then slowly withdrawing, my cheeks concaved as though trying to draw oatmeal through a straw. My movements increased and Eric’s moans and movements attested to the synapses that were firing off in the pleasure center of his brain. His hips were jerking and rolling from side to side as the pleasurable sensations became almost torturous in their intensity.
I felt it first in his abdomen, the small jerks of the muscles, then in the tightening of his balls, the pulsing in his cock and then the spasmodic jerks as his cock began firing. This was too new for him to know what to expect or what was considered customary and he didn’t alert me to his impending release. I didn’t care. I wouldn’t have missed his for the world.
As Eric’s nectar flooded my mouth, I swallowed quickly and repeatedly, continuing to administer to his still hard organ and intending to entirely deplete his balls of every drop of the love that they could hold. He lasted far longer than anyone I had ever before been with, making this both a momentous occasion as well as a victory for love over simple sex. As the pulsing died down and Eric collapsed back against the pillow, drained for the moment and sweating profusely from the pleasurable ordeal, I released his deflating cock from my mouth and licked and gently chewed at his relaxing, oversized balls, then kissed my way slowly up his legs, through his public hair, up his torso and finally to his neck. He pulled my face to his and we kissed as I worried about his reaction to kissing a mouth that had just taken his sperm. He wasn’t fazed. He nibbled my lips until they were nearly raw, sucked on my tongue until I thought he would pull it out of my mouth, then pushed me onto my back. He was frenzied like a man dying of thirst in the desert who had suddenly come upon a lack of cool, clear water.
As he took hold of my throbbing erection, I look into his eyes, checking for any signs of hesitation or uncertainty. “Are you sure you’re ready for this, Eric?”
“Ready? Believe it! I’ve been reading how-to books and practicing on a dildo since we got back from Long Beach last year.” With that simple declaration, Eric plunged his face into my crotch in the truest demonstration of what he felt and the satisfaction of a desire that had been burning in his heart and balls for almost a year. Unlike Eric, my release came quickly. Just the sight and thought of Eric, the object of my affections for so many months, burying his face at the center of my body so willingly, so anxiously, had me on the edge the moment my erection disappeared between his beautiful lips. And, as he demonstrated the worth of months of practice and study, it felt as though the sun was rising, white hot, in my balls.
“Better back off, Eric. I’m going to shoot!”
Eric was having none of that. “By swallowing each other’s love juices, we are forever a part of each other. Now just be quiet and let me work!” He flashed me one of his goofy grins, kissed my belly and returned to his task. Thirty seconds later the white hot sun reached the noon-day position and I was pumping all the love he could handle. A minute later it was all over - except for the need to get my heart restarted.
We lay entwined in each other’s arms for hours, finally arising and dashing out the french doors from the master bedroom, across the patio and diving into the pool naked. We swam, horsed around playing grab ass and grab-something-else for almost an hour before going back in to have lunch, shower, and sit and talk. We stayed naked all day, each taking pleasure in just looking at each other in a way that we had been deprived of until now. Thing was, it was understandable that I would look at him. Seventeen, thin, athletic appearing, long legged, beautiful, sexy. Why he would want to look at me was beyond my ability to comprehend. But I was not one to question what I was sure was a special favor granted me by some greater power.
When evening came, I convinced Eric he needed to go home. His mother was probably frantic with worry. His father would want to mete out punishment and the longer he stayed away the longer that punishment would last. Punishment could have a way of interfering with his visits to me and I definitely wanted to avoid that. The thought of not being with him every moment of every day was a depressing thought.
He did return home. We were unable to see one another for almost two weeks. But a few months later, in September, Eric turned 18 and moved in with me. The old saying is true. When you wish upon a star, dreams really do come true.
Author’s Note:This is a true story from my life - almost. Everything up until the last chapter really happened as written, along with a lot more. But in real life, not everything happens the way we would hope. In reality, Eric and I never did make love and our friendship ended a year later. It has been almost eighteen years since I’ve seen or spoken with him but I know he is happily married, still living in Phoenix, while I returned to Los Angeles to try and drown my sorrows with money. It doesn’t work. I still think of him frequently and wonder what might have been.
If you enjoyed this story, you may also enjoy “Dangerous Obsession” in the High School section of Nifty. If you have comments, positive or negative, about this story, you may write to ArichardHunter@hotmail.com