Date: Tue, 21 Apr 2009 14:13:50 -0500
From: Morris Henderson <bigmoh@post.com>
Subject: culture_clash_3

CULTURE CLASH

He then looked at me.  His eyes sparkled.  Some of
that sparkle was due to a tiny amount of tears but the
sparkle seemed to be coming from his very soul.

"Brian," he began, "That has happened to me.  I have
this feeling when I am with you.  I did not know what
it was.  Now I know.  It is love, Brian.  I think I
love you."


CHAPTER THREE

His words hit me like a bombshell.  They reverberated
through my mind, disrupting all rational thought.  I
suffered what could only be called mental chaos.  I
sat virtually comatose, trying to absorb what I heard.
It was incomprehensible!  We had known each other for
only a few weeks.  How could it be possible that he
felt genuine love for me?  He seemed to feel his
family's honor was more important than a gay
relationship.  Why, then, would he say he loved me?

After I don't know how long, I became aware of his
hovering over me saying, "Brian!  What is wrong?  Are
you all right?  Shall I call a doctor?"

I heard myself say, "I'm okay."

With great difficulty, I gained partial control of my
thoughts.  He said he loved me.  What could he see in
me to love?  I admired his intelligence.  His
personality (after overcoming his shyness) was
energizing.  He was unselfishly generous in helping me
understand chemistry.  I liked him, even held
affection for him.  He had quickly become my best
friend.  But could I say what he so earnestly
admitted?  Could I say that I loved him?  I didn't
think so.

He jarred me out of my chaotic thoughts by saying,
"Brian!  I have upset you.  I am sorry.  Please
forgive me."

"No, Jay.  You did not upset me.  You surprised me,
that's all.  I was overwhelmed by what you said.  I'm
extremely pleased but I have to admit that I'm
confused.  How can you be sure you love me, Jay?"

"I am not sure.  I said I THINK I love you.  You have
always been kind to me.  I am comfortable talking to
you.  You are not like other people.  But there is
more.  I have a feeling I have never had.  Like in the
words you read to me.  It is wonderful feeling, Brian.
I want to be with you.  I feel good when I am with
you.  I think about you when I am not with you.  Is
that love?"

"I don't know," I confessed.  "I've never been in love
so I don't know what it feels like.  What I do know is
that I like you very much.  I enjoy being with you,
too.  But I have to be honest.  I don't think I'm
ready to call what I feel love."

His expression turned from serious to sour as he said,
"You do not love me?"

I regretted making him feel sad so I replied, "I like
you, Jay, more than any other person I've known.
You're my best friend.  Maybe it's love.  I don't
know.  But this I do know for sure: I want very much
to love you."

"Oh," he said with obvious feeling.  "I hope you will!
I hope you can!"

"I hope so, too, Jay.  I'm very fond of you.  It's
just that ... well ... I don't know yet whether it's
real love."

To my relief, he didn't look disappointed with what I
said.  Rather, he replied, "You read to me from a
story.  About love.  That's the way I feel.  Is that
the way you feel?"

His question challenged me to think deeply about my
feelings toward him.  After a moment's reflection, I
said, "Yes, Jay, that's the way I feel.  But you have
to understand that I struggle to understand what love
is.  I didn't even have my parents to show me what
love was like.  I love my dad but that's different.
My parents never showed love for each other, even
before they started to argue and fight.  But please
believe me.  I want someone to love.  I want very much
to love you."

Jay smiled but then his expression turned serious
again, which was a sure sign that he was rigorously
analyzing the situation.

"You want to love me?" he asked.

"Yes!  Very much."

"I believe I can help.  We can do sex together.  That
will help you love me."

"Wait a minute!" I blurted out.  "I want to have sex
with you almost as much as I want to love you.  But
there is a flaw in you logic.  Having sex can be
nothing more than satisfying a physical need.  As much
as I want to have sex with you, I don't want to do it
if you feel you must do it to win my love.  If you'll
recall, I said that gay sex is all right but not if
one person feels forced to do it.  More importantly, I
promised not to do anything that would make you
dishonor your family."

"I make no mistake in my logic, Brian.  When I said we
could do sex it was because I wanted to do it.  I have
wanted to do it for a long time.  I want it more since
knowing you.  I am not being forced.  I have thought
much about it.  I have decided I am gay and will live
as a gay man.  My family will be shamed but only if
they know what I have chosen to do.  I will be gay but
it must be a secret from my family.  I want to be gay
with you, Brian.  I love you.  I want to give you my
love."

I believed him, perhaps because I wanted to believe
him, perhaps because I had never known him to be
dishonest about anything, perhaps because being with
him and not sharing our bodies had been so
extraordinarily frustrating.  Whatever the reason or
combination of reasons, I welcomed the unexpected
prospect of sex with him and, just as importantly, the
possibility of a meaningful relationship.

"You've made me very happy," I said.  "I'll do my best
to make you happy ... for as long as you'll have me."

Spontaneously, we clutched each other in an embrace.
This was the moment I had longed for: holding someone
in my arms ... someone I was fond of and who cared for
me ... someone who had willingly expressed a desire --
a need -- to engage in an intimate expression of our
mutual affection.

"How long can you stay here tonight?" I asked.

He looked at his watch.  "I told my parents I would
come home at eight," he replied with a frown.  (That
was less than an hour away.)  Then, smiling, he said,
"I can telephone them to say that I will be late."

After he made the phone call, I led him to my bedroom.
Upon entering, he seemed to grow apprehensive.  "Are
you absolutely sure you want to do this?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation.  "But I do not
know what to do.  I saw pictures on your computer of
men doing sex but I have not done those things."

"Neither have I," I assured him.  "We will learn
together.  Is that all right with you?"

"Yes," he said.  "You will be patient if I do not do
it good?"

"Of course," I replied.  "We both have a lot to learn.
But let's agree on one rule.  If I do anything that
you don't like or makes you uncomfortable, you must
tell me."

"All right," he said but there was a hint of
trepidation in his voice.

"Don't worry, Jay.  I won't do anything to hurt you.
I want to give you nothing but pleasure."

"And you the same?" he asked.  "Will you tell me if I
do something bad?"

"Agreed!" I said but I couldn't imagine anything he
would do that would upset me.

Although I was eager to see him naked just as I had so
often imagined in my fantasies, I recognized that he
was far more nervous than I was.  We would have to
proceed slowly.

For the next hour and a half, we spoke very little.
We listened to our inner voices and responded to the
other's nonverbal cues.  But the intensity of our
communication was powerful.

I wanted to undress him but didn't want him to be shy
over being naked.  I hoped he would be more at ease if
we undressed together.  I placed his hands on my top
shirt button.  With a little urging, he quickly
accepted my unspoken invitation and unbuttoned my
shirt.  I started to take off my undershirt but then
stopped and looked at him.  He grinned and pulled it
off over my head.  I was rapidly getting hard in
anticipation; no doubt, he was, also.

I then removed his long-sleeve tee shirt.  The pattern
was set.  He unbuckled and removed my belt; I did the
same to his.  Before long, we stood facing each other
wearing nothing but our boxers.  By this time, we were
both showing a prominent tent.  It was his turn in the
spur-of-the-moment ritual I had invented.  He was to
remove my boxers.  But he stood there.

I worried that he was having second-thoughts.  "Jay,"
I said softly.  "Are you still sure you want to do
this?"

"Nan-na-see," he said quietly but with conviction.  He
had taught me the word previously; it meant "yes."  I
also understood why he reverted to his native tongue;
he was stressed.

I reached out and pulled him into a hug.  I hadn't
planned it but our stiff cocks pressed against each
other.  That caused him to gasp.  I felt his muscles
grow tense.  "Relax," I said.  "We can go as slowly as
you want."

He soon calmed down and returned my hug, holding me
tight with his head against my shoulder.  As soon as I
thought his anxiety has dissipated, I broke the hug,
placed my hands on his shoulders, and stepped back.  I
gazed admiringly at his trim body.  "You are
beautiful," I said.  He was!  A compact, trim body
that was reminiscent of his recent youth but very
masculine.  His naturally bronze skin flawlessly clung
to firm muscles that were perfectly proportioned for
his diminutive frame.

He broke my trance when I felt his hands reach for the
waist band of my boxers.  I allowed him to slip my
boxers down.  He seemed to be particularly careful
easing them down so as not to bend my erect cock into
an uncomfortable position.  He kneeled down and helped
me step out of my boxers.  Then, still on his knees,
he stared at my cock for a long time.  I thought I
knew what he wanted.  I certainly knew what I wanted.
I took both his hands in mine and lifted them up,
placing them on my cock.  The sensation was
indescribable.  Nobody had touched me there since I
was an infant.  Now, a man was fondling me, a man who
was eager for sex, a man whom I had grown to (dare I
say it?) love!

I let him explore my manhood until I was afraid I
would cum.  Then I lifted him to his feet and slipped
my thumbs under the waistband of his boxers.  My heart
was pounding.  I was about to see something that had
been denied to me.  Sure, I had felt it and even
jerked it off but Jay had modestly hidden it from my
sight.  For some strange reason I couldn't explain,
that made the goal of feasting my eyes on it all the
more enticing.

I gently pulled down his boxers.  And there it was, a
most beautiful vision of virility and innocence.
Thick, curly, jet-black pubic hair.  Dark skin
stretched tightly around a pole that pointed to the
ceiling.  Just the tip of a helmeted head peeking out
from his foreskin.  And two spheres suspended in a
wrinkled sack of skin.  Those spheres harbored the
precious cream that I hoped would be released into my
mouth.

I didn't need any encouragement to caress his
endowment.  But I did so carefully because I recalled
that he had a hair trigger.  I selfishly wanted his
nectar in my mouth, down my throat, and to become a
part of me.

I stood and seized him in another embrace,
deliberately pressing our rigid cocks firmly against
each other.  We both moaned with ecstasy over the
sensations that we both had craved for so long.

I led him to the bed and laid him down.  I laid down
beside him and said, "If you don't mind, Jay, I'd like
to adore your body for a while.  Just lay there and
enjoy it."

He nodded his assent and I began massaging his chest.
When his nipples stood up demanding more attention, I
gave them special consideration.  But I felt compelled
to proceed toward my ultimate objective.  I gently
massaged downward but kept my hands tantalizingly away
from his throbbing cock.  I wanted to increase his
arousal and desire but my arousal was also peaking.
When I could wait no longer, I let my fingers delve
into his thick pubic bush.  He groaned in
anticipation.  With one hand I cupped his balls, the
reservoir that held what I desperately wanted to
savor.  The intensity and frequency of his groaning
increased.  When I pulled back his foreskin, he
started to writhe with pleasure.  When I kissed the
exposed head of his twitching cock, I tasted the
copious precum, which launched me into an orbit of
unfettered lust.

I had barely wrapped my hungry lips around his hot
shaft when he instinctively began bucking his hips,
which drove his impatient rod deep into my mouth.  He
must have been very close to the brink, even with
minimal stimulation of his penis because it was a
disappointingly short time before he screamed
something in Thai and fired a torrent of his nectar
down my throat.

My own cum was slightly bitter, even after I had grown
used to it but Jay's was almost sweet ... perhaps
because I had wanted it for so long ... perhaps
because it came from Jay whom I had grown to (dare I
say it again?) love.

Having suckled the last few precious drops, I laid on
my side to cuddle Jay while he recovered.  When his
breathing returned to normal, he startled me by
quickly attacking me with a ferocious hug.  He buried
his head into my shoulder and said, "You made me very
happy.  I love you!"

I hugged him back, still afraid to say I loved him but
knowing deep in my heart that I did.

With no further comment, he began to give me the
attention that I had given him.  No longer shy, no
longer nervous, he duplicated my actions methodically
but still very erotically.  I thought about giving him
permission not to take my cum into his mouth but
decided that I should let him make the decision.

I tried to hold back but my efforts were futile.  I
had never had such an intense and debilitating orgasm.
It paralyzed my body.  For a long time, the only
reality in my mind was the powerful sensations
emanating from my crotch and infusing my entire body
with pleasure.

We cuddled for several blissful minutes silently but
for Jay saying, "Thank you, Brian.  You have given me
great happiness.  I love you."

Much too soon, it was time for Jay to return home.  We
dressed and I escorted him to the front door where we
lingered in a long, adoring embrace.  Before parting,
we kissed passionately.  Both of us struggled to hold
back the tears as he left -- tears of joy for having
found each other, tears of sadness over his need to
return home.

I collapsed onto the sofa cherishing the memory of our
overwhelming experience.  It was the first time for
both of us; I hoped it would not be the last.  My
thoughts then turned to my feelings toward the angel
that had entered my life thanks to a random assignment
of pairs in chemistry class.  If there was a God, I
thought irrationally, the pairing was not entirely
random.  It was during that reflection that I
recognized that, yes, I did love Jay!  It was as Tom
Borden had described it: "...you'll know love when it
hits you and sweeps over you.  You'll know it when a
certain exhilaration comes over you.  You'll feel
enlivened and your heart will quicken.  A feeling of
warmth and tenderness and endearment will take hold of
you like a cramp in your middle.  And with it will
come passion, desire, and a yearning like nothing you
have ever felt before."  I had experience everything
in that passage: exhilaration, warmth, tenderness,
passion, yearning.  It had to be genuine love!

I could think of nothing else as I got ready for bed,
only the pure joy of being with Jay.  I was looking
forward to a lifetime of companionship when a
crippling thought cruelly destroyed my euphoria.
Jay's father was in the country for a limited time and
would eventually return to Thailand.  No doubt Jay
would accompany his family to his homeland.  The
thought seared my soul.  I cried myself to sleep.

**************

Jay and I worked together on a lab experiment in class
on Wednesday.  I couldn't concentrate; my thoughts
were alternately captured by my love for my lab
partner and the inevitable loss of his companionship.
Jay, however, was far more disciplined and only with
his efforts did we complete the experiment.

As we left the lab, I said, "Jay, I have to tell you
something.  Can we go somewhere private?  Do you have
a few minutes?"

"Of course," he replied and we walked out of the
building to sit on a bench under a large oak tree.

I wanted to hold him close to me and kiss him before I
said what I wanted to say but, of course, that was
impossible in public.  "Jay," I began.  "I want you to
know that I love you.  More than anything in the
world.  More than I ever imagined I could.  I'm sorry
that I didn't recognize it as sooner but now I'm
certain."

Jay made a move as though he was going to hug me but
caught himself in time and sat back with a radiating
smile on his face.  "You made me happy on Monday," he
said, "But now I am much more happy.  I love you!"

"When can you come see me again?" I asked, eager to
show my love for him.

Jay thought for a moment and replied, "Tomorrow.  I
will tell my parents we study for a test."

"That's ... what's the word? ... wi set!"

Jay laughed at my mispronunciation of the Thai phrase
for wonderful and said, "Wi set!" and then repeated it
slowly to emphasize the correct pronunciation.  "Yes!
It is wonderful!"


To be continued.