Copyright 2009 by The Stories of Max Borren ©. All rights reserved.

On Straight and Narrow - The Story of Max & Chris

Chapter 1: In the Beginning

      Our story is a long one, but this is only the beginning. If you want something intensely erotic then look somewhere else. This story is born of reality not fantasy, a story based on life as it was and is, not life as total fiction. Does that mean this story itself is true? You'll have to decide for yourself. I'll say this much, the story in its entirety goes on over many years and this in only the beginning. I hope to tell the whole tale, but will I ever have time to do so? How can I say this, I'm no prophet!

Our story begins...

     I've always wanted to tell someone at least a few parts of our story. In so many ways, there's just so much to say about the deep feelings of love, compassion and beauty not to mention the depths of sorrow, frustration and loss. Where does a guy begin? Ok, how about a name, my name is Max, well actually it's Maximilian, but most folks just call me Max or Maxi (which I hate from most people, although it's Ok from a few). I was born in Texas but I've lived most of my life all around the United States. I was a fairly normal kid for most of my life. I attended several grade schools, junior high, high school and finally college. I'm actually a very bright young man since I managed to skip a grade in junior high and then again in high school; so I started college at age 16 not age 18. My parents were upper middle class professionals who sent all their children through college. Right after college I went into the job market, quickly finding success, and rapidly climbing to a young executive position making a great deal of money. It was during one of my various job placements that I met him.

     The `him' I'm talking about is Chris, well Christopher actually. He was a summer intern at my office. Chris was a 16-year-old high school student and the most beautiful guy you've literally ever seen. I mean, this is the kind of young guy that everyone, be they man, woman or beast watches when he walks down the street (there're also girls just like that to), or turn their head to hear his laughter and often just to hear him speak. You know the type I'm talking about, don't you? When you see them, you do that double take -- their looks are so mesmerizing, totally! You almost stop breathing when you see them, you know...

     I knew during college that I was different from most other guys since I had a very strong attraction to other guys who were themselves babe magnets to the extreme. I sought out these virile strong young men and always managed to become their best friends. On the other hand, while all my best friends were constantly fighting off hoards of girls, there were a few girls that were attracted to me. Unfortunately, I was really very ordinary, at least in comparison, with the exception of a very few young women who got to know me extremely well, and then suddenly started talking about marriage, kids, and `our future together'... That would quickly be the end of that because I had no desire to be tied down. I simply loved dating, going out, and having fun. Still I had my best buds in this circle of young men (plus a very few young women) who kept my interest, and yet it was kind of like an addiction to drugs, gave you that high feeling, yet you could never get enough. I always fought off acting on my `strange' urges since I knew that most of my friends (if not all of them) would've been repulsed by those kinds of feelings, and I was too afraid to commit to anything that far outside of the ordinary. But I digress...

     Back to Christopher, Chris had the most exotic deep piercing blue eyes you've ever seen. At times his eyes appeared to be a deep ocean blue and then, at other times a pale gray/blue. When he smiled at people, the world would pale before the light that blazed from his strong face, then radiated out of his mesmerizing eyes, set amid this head of dishwater blonde or light brown medium length hair. He was about 5 feet, 11 inches tall (I'm just over 6 feet -- so Chris was slightly shorter than me) and Chris had an amazing physique. He's a total mesomorph with a naturally powerful build, well-developed Pecs, washboard abs, narrow waist and perfectly-developed legs. Did I mention that wonderful hot tight ass? The only downside to his appearance was his choice of clothes; the kid had absolutely no proper taste in regarding clothes, but still that didn't matter too much in the overall package.

     During that first summer I got to know Chris (and most of the temporary staff) really well, and I'd treat my temporary help to the occasional free lunches when they did good work, or buy them cokes and snacks on their breaks. I always dressed in a pressed dress shirt, tie and pressed slacks for work each day or an occasional suit from time to time. I was always a warm friendly kind of boss, never too intimate, yet always just friendly enough without anything inappropriate in the work place (not that I'd have acted on that anyway at the time). As summer neared its end, I hosted a dinner party for friends in my apartment, unaware that Chris and some of the other interns had overheard about my plans at work. Since they felt they were close enough and had worked hard enough for me -- they managed to invite themselves over for the event (well really they crashed the party). I really wasn't that keen on it at the time (there's a good 7 years difference in age groups here). My friends were young men and women just out of college mostly, whereas these kids were still in high school. I wasn't fooled, I knew the real reason they wanted to attend was because they knew there'd be a lot of booze at the party and they wanted to have as many free drinks as they could get. I swear everyone of this particular bunch of interns felt like I was some kind of pushover. Feeling generous at the time, I allowed some of the guys to tag along, it was after all close to the end of summer and they'd be off to school soon, likely never to be seen again. I mean really they'd made Chris their advocate and when he approached me I just kind of mumbled "Ok, kid, I get it."

     I welcomed everyone to my apartment at the party. I was wearing a designer pull over shirt with designer jeans -- several hundred dollars worth of casual clothes. When the interns arrived, a few had the decency to feel improperly dressed since some were wearing faded and / or torn jeans and T-shirts which really didn't match the dress code of the college aged or recently-out-of-college aged professional folks attending, unless you consider Sears or J.C. Penney a designer brand name. Most of the guys were dressed in a similar style as I was and the young women were all in fancy summer designer wear as well. The menu included Russian Caviar, Oyster's on the Half Shell, Escargot and many other delicacies not to mention the main courses. I guess I thought the interns understood what a `dinner party' was supposed to be, when in fact not a one of them had a clue. Funny, because all of their parents, at least those I worked with, would most certainly have known what it entailed. Long story short, the kiddies nearly wrecked the dinner party by mixing the most horrible drink concoctions for everyone and constantly cutting up, goofing off or just acting out. In fact, if it weren't for their grade school style antics, it would've been a total disaster, but everyone at the party just sat back and remembered what it'd been like at that age and wrote it all off to hormones and juvenile horsing around. A few of my snobbier friends were in a bit of a huff when they left, but I more or less took it all in stride. I mean kids will be kids, after all, and I was the one that allowed them to crash the party, at least once I knew about it. After a few hours consuming more fifths than I care to count, of all brand name beverages, most everyone was having a good time. Totaling up the losses (especially those wasted) in my head I figured that I spent well over $650 on alcoholic beverages before the night was over. I didn't want to even contemplate the amount of food that was wasted. By the end of the evening, when most everyone had gone home, Chris stuck around to help clean up the place, which I thought was really great and very mature for someone his age. After we had everything cleaned up, I started to thank Chris for all his help and asked if I needed to drive him home. Chris replied, "No thanks, Max, but I really had a great time." I started walking him to the door and the entire time I kept thinking `God if you were only a few years older I might've risked a lot here.' Just as he was about to leave, Chris turned around and said "Max I really have something I need to talk to someone about and you've always been great to me -- if you have some time tonight could we talk for a while?"  What was this about? It wasn't sounding good, but I looked into those deep blue eyes and the kid smiled at me with that look that says "you know you'll do anything I ask of you." It felt all wrong, but I managed to grunt out an "Ok, if you don't stay too late."

     He came back into the apartment, went over to the loveseat, and sat down while I collapsed onto the sofa. "Hey do you mind if I get one for the road?" he asked. "No" I said, "Well -- just remember that if you have too much then I need to take you home and you can come back for your car tomorrow." From the kitchen he yelled, "Would you like another drink?"  "No thanks" I said, "I think I've had enough for tonight." He sat back down after making himself some type of cocktail. I do have to say that unlike his other juvenile friends, Chris was actually a pretty good bar tender, to which he later mentioned that the reason for that was because his parents had been big time party people themselves and used to make Chris mix drinks for everyone. That seemed a little bit odd to me.

     We sat together for several hours while Chris slowly spilled out his life's story -- one long sentence at a time. The short version is that he grew up in a blue-collar working-class family. His parents had been high schools sweethearts and his mom had become pregnant with Chris at the end of high school so his parents had a rushed wedding. Chris was an only child and just before he turned 12, his folks divorced. There was a bitter custody battle and Chris was left shuttling between two different homes for the last few years up until that time. He said his parents were too busy now being single to give much thought to him -- they just wanted to keep the other from having him just out of spite. As I listened to this kid spill his guts to me I realized that this young man felt his life was so empty and trivial. This was something I couldn't really get a good handle on because to all appearances he seemed so in control, so well adjusted and outgoing -- the kind of boy you'd think everyone in school wanted for their friend. In real life, he was actually a pretty shy guy and had a small circle of friends, never really felt like he fit in, and was always feeling like the out-of-place ugly duckling in the crowd. I was floored -- I didn't know what to say. I would've given my right arm to have had this kid's looks and charm, it would've made my life so much simpler, or at least I thought so.

     After he finished catching me up to date on the current state of his life, he looked straight into my eyes and said "You know Max, in real life you're actually a really cool guy. Everyone at work thinks you're sort of some kind of nerdy college professional type when they see you around the office. When you're out around on the town or at parties like tonight, you're a totally different guy. I never thought of you as `fun to be around' like some of my friends are, but you aren't as childish as they are either."

     He sat there very quiet for a while, slowly taking his time with the same drink he'd been nursing for over two hours now. I immediately understood that he was very impressed with the trappings of money, but he also seemed to feel comfortable in my home, which didn't feel right because I also knew he wasn't used to lots of money, and because his clothes, his appearance, and his manner all indicated that his life had been much less fortunate than mine. Then he looked at me again -- with that dead straight look that you'd swear could tear right through your soul in a heartbeat. "Max, why have you always been so nice to me?"  Dear heaven above! Was I that obvious to everyone around me? Now I was suddenly the off-balanced one in the room; with absolutely no desire to search inside myself and honestly answer that question for real. "I don't know, Chris, I never really thought that I treated you differently from any of the other interns at work. I always took the interns for free lunches or snacks if you did good jobs for me. At the same time, I like to be available anytime one of you might need me, to help you get a good idea of what working in an actual business is really like. I know that'll help you later on in life when you get a job for yourself."

     The kid just sat there for a while staring into his now almost empty drink glass. "No, I know you never gave me any special type of preferential treatment around the office, some people do that for me, especially the women at the office, but you always treated me the same way as the other employees." He sat there a moment longer and then he seemed to make some kind of decision, came to some turning point in his thinking I guess you'd say, "No, it's the way you look at me, when you think no one else can see you looking. I don't know how to describe it; I feel that you really care about my well being, like someone who seems to be looking out for their own family".

     Now I was also the confused one, not to mention very nervous here. He noticed me `looking at him, when no one else was watching'? Did I really do that? Shit! Who else noticed that? In a job, especially around under-aged kids, that could get you fired immediately if anyone in management picked that up. But no, that wasn't what was really bothering me, I never did anything inappropriate at work or even outside of work, at least not these days. Yeah, I did allow some high school kids some alcoholic drinks tonight, but even their own parents were doing that, as well as the fact that they were frequently drinking with their school friends most nights (that came from being in a middle class and upper middle class school environment I figured). I never let anyone drink and drive if they had too many drinks. No, what was bothering me was where this boy was going with this conversation...

     "Most of my life has been a bunch of crap, Max, and by the end of summer I have to go back to my mom's place to live. Even my friends don't understand what it's like to have two separate homes, both of which feel empty because you know that no one really wants you there," then after a brief pause he continues, "I lost my virginity a while back to one of my dad's girlfriends. She's older than my mom. My parents don't really care what I do, not anymore, there hasn't been anyone in my life who cares what I do, where I go, or whether or not things are going well for me or not. My grandparents died a long time ago too which left me even more alone." Good grief, who wouldn't want to shower this kid with love and attention, especially someone who was searching for anyone to care about them as badly as Chris apparently was. I really didn't know what to say at this point, so I just said "Chris if things ever get so bad that you have no where left to go or even if you just need a place to stay for a while, you can always give me a call, anytime day or night, here's my business card. I'll even write my calling card information on the back so you can call direct without any long distance charges anytime you need to."

     "Thanks, Max, I really appreciate that!" he said, "No one really every cared what happened to me. You're the first person I've ever met who seemed to care at all." I just gave him the card from my pocket after writing the information on the back and sat there. What else could I say? "Do you mind if I crash here for the night? My dad won't even notice that I didn't come home and I don't want to drive after drinking like I have, and I don't think you should drive either." What was I going to say to that? I wasn't comfortable with a minor in my apartment, but the kid did have a valid point about drinking and driving, one of my own sticking points. "Ok, I'll go get some blankets and a pillow and you can just sleep here on the sofa tonight." I went to my bedroom and started pulling down some sheets, a blanket and spare pillow from the closet -- when I turned around he was standing right behind me! I know I got this confused look on my face, because Chris just smiled at me and said "If you don't mind I'll just sleep here on the floor by your bed, I really don't want to be alone tonight and for some reason you make me feel safe." I guess it was the alcohol, one minute this kid was more mature and caring than most of my college friends and then the next minute I felt like I was talking to a 12 year old...

     Now I didn't think that was either safe or a good idea, but what was I going to say to a boy who looked at me with those big blue eyes like that? "Ok, Chris, whatever you want to do is fine with me." I gave him the linens and pillow and then walked into the private bathroom and started splashing cold water on my face. I looked down at my hands and realized that I was shaking. This was a really bad idea -- all these feelings I'd kept buried for years were surfacing and yet my conscious would never let me act on any of them. I dried off and walked back into the bedroom. Chris had already laid out the linens, blanket and pillow on the floor next to my bed. "I hope you don't mind, I'll just put my clothes over there on the floor, I usually just sleep in the raw, but I guess that wouldn't be appropriate at someone else's house when you're an uninvited guest". He flashed that gleaming smile at me and I would've sworn that there was just a hint of mischief in his eyes when he was talking about `not appropriate' behavior. I just mumbled "Ok, yea I usually sleep naked too, so I guess we are in the same boat there." I quickly got out of my clothes -- just leaving my briefs on and got into bed.

     Just as I turned around I saw Chris slowly pull his shirt off over his head -- he managed to make this long stretch as he did so which made all his chest, abs and arm muscles ripple as he did so. "You know I was so excited about coming to your party that I never did make it to the gym today. You probably don't know this about me, but I'm a big time weight lifter! I really do mean weight lifter -- NOT body builder, because I hate guys that just work out to improve their looks, but never really intend to use their body for real work." "Watch this," he said as he stretched his muscles further and then ran his hands from his chest down across his abdomen making every muscle group tighten and release as he went -- it was the most intense, well coordinated, movement I've ever seen anyone do -- ever in my lifetime. You could tell that he was really happy to show off his expertise to someone that he thought could appreciate it, plus I had the feeling he was kind of a show-off. And WOW, did I ever appreciate it! "Just watch," he said as he took off his jeans and threw them on the floor, standing there beside my bed with just his white briefs on. He did a kind of squat and stretch which really showed off how well developed his thigh muscles were. He jumped over really close to my bed. "Here punch me in the stomach -- I want you to know just how much punishment my abs can take." He reached out and grabbed my hand and forced it into a fist and then positioned it over his abs -- just at the point to make a good punching motion into his abdominal muscles. I weakly complied, noticing that I didn't even make the least dent and swallowed convulsively as I noticed how close my hand had come to his crotch -- there was a huge package below that tight waistband and it was pretty obvious that this kid was very well endowed in more ways than one. He obviously had hairy armpits and was developing just a few hairs right in the middle of his chest. I caught myself staring at his crotch, and realized that he'd stretched out the elastic around his leg on the right side and you could see pubic hair and just a bit of something else starting to show at that spot.

     "I think we ought to go to sleep, don't you, Chris?" I barely managed to choke that out while retracting my arm from anywhere even remotely close to this kid. "Ok," he said and one last time flashed that totally innocent beautiful smile at me. He then lay down on the floor in his briefs and started to pull up his blanket for the night, "No, I think it's kind of hot, I'll just lie on top of the sheets for now. Goodnight, Max!"  I finally mumbled, "Goodnight, Chris, let's get some sleep, Ok?"  "Sure," he said, as I turned out the bedroom light on the nightstand. I had forgotten to turn off the lights in the living room, which flooded slightly into the bedroom and especially on the bedroom floor around the area where Chris was laying. I decided to leave them on in case the boy needed to see to get up during the night. He'd already closed his eyes and was just lying there quietly, so trusting, so peaceful. I fell asleep just watching him doze off.

     Later that night I heard something and woke up. I looked off the bed to the floor -- Chris was kind of thrashing around and he had this disturbed look on his face. At the same time in the dim light, I couldn't help but notice that he was extremely aroused. The edge and tip of his 10-inch penis was just starting to push out at the side of his right thigh where he'd stretched his briefs out earlier in his exhibition. As he gently rolled back and forth I couldn't help but watch as his penis got larger and tighter against his shorts and kept throbbing up and down from time to time. At one point he turned his side more toward me and I saw this small glistening drop of precum well up onto the tip of his penis and just stand there gleaming in the dim light streaming into the bedroom door. I licked my lips -- I was so entranced and excited, I just couldn't help myself. Chris started to mumble something in his sleep -- I could tell it wasn't a nice dream -- it seemed to be a nightmare. I slowly reached out and down with my left arm and tried to reach his side and shake him, intending to wake him out of his nightmare. Just as I almost said "Chris, it's Ok, wake up," he turned to his side violently pulling away from me, but that caused his position on the floor to change and my hand was suddenly right beside his thigh leg, my fingers just brushing the side of his penis where it was pulling out of his briefs. I froze. `Dear God don't let him wake up now!' I thought. You get caught doing this and it's a long stay in a very dark cell for a very long time...

     Just at that moment, his penis throbbed and moved violently against my fingers; the moistened tip just brushing the side of my index finger and thumb. Instantly, his throbbing organ was almost completely in my hand -- and yet I'd done nothing intentionally to put it in that position. I didn't know what to do, afraid he would awaken and find me holding his moist throbbing penis, and at the same time, so reluctant to withdraw my hand -- which would likely cause him to wake up. I just froze like that for several moments. His breathing was shallow and rapid, his muscles were tight one moment and then loose the next, it was as if he was fighting captivity of some form and losing. His penis was now somewhere between 11 and 12 inches (at least that's how long it appeared to me) of fully engorged mass, throbbing frantically against my hand, now almost a constant stream of precum leaking from the meatus of the tip dripping slowly, thickly down the side of my thumb and fingers. I couldn't help myself, my fingers moved slowly gently over the tip of that moist penis. It responded by pushing up firmly against my fingers then relaxing for a moment only to rise again at the least amount of friction from my hand. Chris groaned deeply and then sighed as if in resignation of some frightening feelings deep in his chest and abdomen. Just then his pelvis thrust firmly against my hand -- never once did I move toward him -- instead his body seemed to achingly move toward me. His penis came fully out the side of his briefs and his testicles grudgingly spilled forth. His engorged penis, slickly gleaming with precum moistened over the entire glans and down the side of the huge shaft, stood at near attention firmly against my hand now; the warmth of his light brownish blonde full bush of pubic hair feeling soft against the tips of my fingers and the palm of my hand resting nestled against the roundness of his scrotum and balls. For a few brief moments he seemed to rub his dick back and forth against my hand. The feelings rushing through me were too intense! My own dick felt near to busting, the tip long since pushed outside the top of the elastic band of my own briefs -- rubbing intensely against it. Suddenly his huge engorged penis throbbed violently against my hand and without realizing what was happening my hand finally tightened and grabbed his manhood firmly pulling down suddenly on the bright red-hot shaft.

     Chris took a sudden intake of air -- he had finally fought off his demons and then started to roll to his side, but my hand refused to let go of his enormous hot dick. He suddenly started awake. I knew he was awake because he slowly rolled over onto his back and in the dim light I could see his eyes look down at his crotch and then follow the line of my hand and arm back up to my face. Fear surely radiated from me, but instead of fear -- Chris reached down and gently pulled my hand from his penis and then he stood up, slowly pulled his briefs off, and laid them over on the side of the floor. Then he turned back around and took a single step to my bed, lifted my hand back up, placed it on his still throbbing dick, and finally he slowly crawled into bed with me.

     Here was this young man so powerful, so strong and intense, and at the same time, so vulnerable -- I felt a shiver run through him as our skin came into contact. He never touched me in any other way -- he just lay back in the bed next to me and his penis began to slide slowly back and forth against my hand. Now I was totally committed, I don't remember how long I gently rubbed his penis, scrotum and testicles. Eventually I began rubbing my face gliding it against his pectoral muscles and licking his nipples then slowly let my mouth drift down his rippled abdominal muscles and drawing my tongue sweetly around his navel. I wanted so badly to caress every inch of his warm body -- to feel a part of him. Once more, I slide my mouth slowly further down his abdominals and through the thick patch of pubic hair. The smell was so intoxicating -- never in my life had anything smelled so musky, warm, and exciting. My lips touched the moist tip of his penis and immediately his lubricant spread across my lips and tongue as I swallowed his huge organ down to the back of my throat as far as it would go. It was so huge that I was really chocking, and yet I still felt so alive and excited I couldn't help swallowing it further even if met never taking a breath of air again. I thoroughly licked every single drop of precum from the glans of his penis and down the shaft and from the pubic hair around the base of his organ and then gradually swallowed one testicle after another. Ever so softly but firmly drawing his testes into my widening jaws with gentle suction by inhaling through my mouth while barely drawing air through my nose that just exploded with new smells and sensations I don't remember even knowing one single time before in my lifetime of experiences until that moment.

     During this entire time Chris remained quiet, he never once objected, nor did he fully submit. As I massaged his scrotum with my mouth and tongue, I couldn't help but notice the different musky scent of his anus that barely reached my awareness. I licked my fingers and then gently ran the tips of my moist digits over his tight asshole and up and down the crack between his perfect Gluteus Maximus muscles. The perfectly smooth and richly wet feel of that tightly closed orifice nearly sent my brain into explosions of lust and longing. I became so excited that I almost penetrated the sphincter ring with my now quivering fingers when I couldn't stop myself from attempting to enter his most private precious and reserved areas of access. At that moment, he reached down and gently but with impossible strength and will pulled my hand away from his ass and again directed it toward his crotch. After placing my fingers, again, around his now massive manhood and with only a thought, he withdrew his hand carefully from around mine as if it had never been there at all. Never once did he say a word, never indicating he was even aware that I had a nearly naked body right up against his, and likewise he always kept us apart in such a way that not once did we come face to face while still intimating connected by my body pressing up against and into his. With my hands, mouth, tongue and chest I rubbed and massaged every erotic point on his body that he allowed me too -- except his asshole and his face. Other than constant precum, he never climaxed, not even once. His breathing remained steady, and eventually we fell asleep together that way. Just holding him that night felt so different, so perfect, it was something significant to me that I wasn't prepared for and didn't know how to absorb. I never removed my briefs and he never once touched me on his own, except when he appeared to object to the location of my hand. I never felt I had forced myself on him in anyway and I didn't ask for him to reciprocate -- for some reason he seemed to need to give something to me.

     Eventually my body came to rest against his near side and back with my legs and hips behind his, gently cupping against his body, and my arms became draped softly but firmly around his torso and finally came to rest across his chest, crossed together out of some deep need to prevent him from flying from me while in some manner feeling a great desire to pull him back into me, almost as a mother would pull a baby to her breast for comfort. Then at some point in the night his hands came to rest on mine and so too did my head manage to drift peacefully across and down his near shoulder to rest tenderly against the side of his face. To this day I remember sometime during that night almost coming awake with the fresh and youthful smell of his unblemished skin and soft clean hair flowing into and up my nostrils and forever registering deep in my memories -- the smell of a boy, just a clean young man and not at all the smells of an adult male that could have ignited passion in an instance with just the smallest movement of thought from his desires if he'd ever desired anything from me that night at all. We never spoke a single word that night. I just held him and slept peacefully. And yet I will never be able to forget what it meant to me, that night of innocence, that night of passion that had no climax, no release of man's seed nor any fulfillment of lust or longing. How can you explain the thrill of such a sacrifice, such a gift so powerful, or forget that you took something so precious so forbidden that was still freely given. This was the moment that became the moment of all time -- the spark of understanding that something had happened that would take a lifetime to understand and forgive. This was when innocence was found, and lost forever, never to come again in this life.

     The next morning we both woke up at about the same time with the early morning light falling gently across the bed. Sometime during the night, he'd moved out from my body so that now he lay on his back with me by his side and yet still one of my arms was across his chest still trying to keep him fixed in that spot to that moment of time. His hands were still lying upon my arm but instead they felt cold and removed as if they barely tolerated my touch and ever so slowly they pulled my arm away and then pushed it back to me in this symbol of complete and utter rejection on the boy's part. Chris looked deeply into my eyes with an enormous sad look on his face, a look that somehow indicated I had betrayed a precious trust. I didn't know what to say, I suddenly felt terribly ashamed and overcome with intense grief. I dropped my eyes briefly and looked back into his sad face, saying only "I'm sorry, Chris, that should never have happened. It wasn't something I really intended to do; I didn't mean to betray your trust. I've never done anything like this before, but I know that's no excuse."   He just continued to stare back at me and said "I need to get a shower" in a horse rough voice that was racked with guilt. He got up out of the bed and looked down at his clothing on the floor looking lost and forlorn. Slowly he picked up each shed article almost like a mourner picking up the shattered remains of a loved one, then walked naked into the bathroom, and quietly closed the door. Almost inaudible was the low sound of the door lock as it turned and clicked firmly into place.

     `Shit, shit, shit -- you idiot, your whole life you've never done anything so stupid, so selfish, so thoughtless. If you land in jail you deserve every minute you spend there and more.'  I jumped out of bed and ran to the other bathroom and quickly washed up -- then I made a quick breakfast for us both. I knew Chris loved good home cooking from our summer of working together, and I'd always been a better than average cook for a guy, in fact, I was actually an excellent cook. Shortly Chris came out of the bedroom, fully dressed, with his hair perfectly combed. Gone was the bright smile he always shared, replaced instead by a look of emptiness, a mask of non-emotions. He sat down at the dining table and slowly ate the food, although his movements seemed almost mechanical to me. I didn't know what to say, what to do, but I was afraid that if I didn't say something -- things would only go from bad to worse.

     "Chris I'm so sorry. I don't really understand what happened last night. You were having some kind of nightmare and I just wanted to wake you up -- I couldn't stand seeing you being hurt like that, but somehow everything got so twisted."  When I mentioned the nightmare, Chris looked startled, some deep hidden emotion registering on that blank face for only a second before all emotions washed away again into nothingness. For a long, while he just sat staring out the dining room window into the early morning weekend light. Finally he pushed away the remaining food unfinished, looked back at me with that deeply sad face and said, "Don't worry about it, man, it wasn't really your fault. I had... had this... problem earlier this year... I never really talk about it with anyone and I don't want to talk about now." Then he sat quietly for several minutes longer just staring off into space, though I thought I saw some deep pain echoing in his eyes as he looked anywhere but toward me.

     "Max, you aren't queer are you?" the boy asked me, still refusing to look toward me at all. There was the million-dollar question that I'd been fighting off ever since college. What was the state of my sexuality? I really liked dating girls, but for some strange reason I could only feel strong emotional connections with men. It was totally confusing to me why I was the way I was. But was I a homosexual? No I could never really label myself that way because didn't homosexuals find satisfaction in same sex relationships? The boy knew nothing of the long years after college, those years of searching, when I tried all kinds of lifestyle changes in my personal life just trying to find out anything about myself. I'd partied at all hours, become embroiled in higher social circles, and done more forms of drugs than a man could count and so many other bizarre things, though always keeping my business and professional work intact. Yes, I'd tried male-on-male personal, sexual relationships, unknown to any family, most friends and none of my business associates, but it never worked out and I never found any true happiness let alone any real form of personal satisfaction. I'd completely rejected those years, turned back the clock, and tried to recover who I'd been at the end of college when I'd thought a path had formed in front of me feet leading somewhere. Going so far as to renew old college friendships locally; I'd change, again. So what about homosexual relationships with other men? Those ideas terrified me now, made me very uncomfortable, especially when I was around any type of overly dominant females or submissive effeminate males. I definitely preferred the company of straight people and while something was always lacking in my life it felt familiar and safe to me -- homosexuality was never familiar or safe as far as I was concerned. "I don't know how to answer that question, Chris. All my friends, like those you met last night, are totally straight, at least as far as I know. I've never really had what I'd call a `real' homosexual relationship, like gay people talk about, you know two men happy having sex and being together instead of just going through some form of sexual release." At the mention of the word `release' Chris almost turned around and he cocked his head briefly like he heard some distant sound he couldn't quite recognize. "I guess other than that, the only kind of thing that happened with boys was some sexual experimentation as a child growing up, and everybody else seemed to be doing the same kind of things and they all seem perfectly normal today." But did that mean that I was still normal now? I wasn't telling him the worst of my past either, I'd left out the humiliation, the darkest times, since they'd mean nothing to him. Besides I was afraid, afraid something was going away.

     "I'm no queer, Max; I could never be like that. I hope you understand that."  He started to shake his head as he sat there thinking and then he slowly looked back at me across the dining table. "I thought we had a connection, Max, I thought you cared about me. Was I wrong? Is it just some kind of physical attraction thing for you?"

     "No, Chris, I've always been fond of you. I've always admired what a hard worker you are, so diligent, and you know that I think you're a great kid, I mean a great guy. Most of the young men I know would change places with you in a heartbeat. But that's not what you want to hear is it?"  He shook his head briefly. "I do feel a connection to you, Chris, but I'm sorry I can't put a label on it, or explain it right now. You're very special to me and I'd never want to hurt you in any way at all, not if I could really help it" I tried to plead with him, hoping that my stumbling words had some meaning, that somehow, I could rescue a friendship I'd never thought was present. Suddenly he got that same intense look he could throw your way from time to time, like he was staring straight into your soul. "I believe you, Maximilian. I don't know why, but I feel like I can trust you -- even considering what happened last night," he said, but the guilt and the shame was clearly evident on his face now. Then he stood up and said "Thanks for the breakfast and for allowing us to come to your party last night," as he walked to the door and opened it. Slowly as he pulled out his car keys, "You really are a special kind of person, Max. I'll see you at work on Monday." Then, almost a dream, he was gone like smoke on the wind.

     I just collapsed into the dining chair, never having realized that I'd stood up when he left. Tears started falling down my face; I was very confused and felt totally sick to my stomach. What had I done? Was I some kind of monster to be feeling all these bizarre things slamming into me from one moment to the next? The rest of the weekend dragged by, but on Monday morning I was into work early. I was shaking with fear, what was going to happen? Eventually everyone made it into the office. The interns came in running in their usual bunch. Chris was in the middle of the crowd as normal, with everyone around him doting on him and his electric smile was back -- right until his eyes swept over me, then the smile dimmed just a little and he became thoughtful for a moment. I nodded my head at him and he broke off from the group and walked directly over to me. Suddenly it seemed like everyone in the office was watching him stride up to face me. I know I was shaking in my boots, but I just tried to look like my regular, professional, business self. When he stood just a foot or two away from me Chris said, "You have something for us to do today, boss?"  I swallowed hard and told him "Yeah, I have a few things that I think would make you guys useful for once."  "Well, Ok" he said. "You know I think you ought to owe us all a free lunch again if we really work super hard for you." I simply responded by saying, "No problem, Chris, you know me, always willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done right." He flashed his usual warm glowing smile at me, although it felt like it was really meant for everyone else present, it swept around the room and the stillness seemed to vanish in that instant, as everything seemed to go back to the normal daily work environment.

     Two more weeks of work went by and the summer intern program came to an end. This time all the interns came up to me on the next to the last day and begged me to let them have a going away party at my apartment -- they'd heard from the other interns about the dinner party I'd allowed some to attend, well crash really, and how great it'd been, so fantastic, so different, and they all expected to be treated equally, so... Chris just stood at the back of the pack and waited expectantly for my reply to the group. What was I going to say? I'd look like a jerk if I refused them. Although some of the kids in the group had parents who also worked at our company, they all knew what was going on, and that when it came to drinking I was as cautious as any of the liberal parents in the group, likely more so in fact, so I said "Ok, tomorrow night it is, but I expect everyone to be adults. No excess clowning around, no big chances and no one out past their curfews -- where imposed." They all agreed happily and went back to work.

     The next night the party was a big success -- once more a bunch of kids 6-7 years younger than me all said what a fun guy I was, mostly because I didn't wear the designer clothes this time, just an old pair of jeans and plain pull over shirt and so no one felt poorly dressed. Likewise I kept the good stuff safely locked up, having learned my lesson at the last bash. Instead of fancy hors d'oeuvres and appetizers I just served chips and dip this time with pizza instead of Chicken Kiev or Filet Mignon. Nothing spectacular happened -- no cops checking in on rambunctious teens, no falling down drunks, or anyone too drunk to drive who wasn't escorted home safely. I walked the last group out the front door and told them from the porch, "You were all great kids to work with and I know that you'll all be very successful someday -- have a great fall semester!"  I then stepped back inside and closed the front door locking it in place. I leaned against the door and dropped my head, feeling like I'd really dodged the bullet on this one and vowing to never lose control of myself like that ever again. Still, there was this big empty place deep inside my chest that I'd never really noticed before. Something was missing, something that'd never been there before. I couldn't help but feel this enormous despair and longing for something precious that I seemed to have lost. I walked back into the kitchen and started gathering up the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. After I cleaned up the kitchen I walked into the living room and started picking up empty glasses and plastic beer cups that seemed to be everywhere, and just as I turned around, I saw him standing there in the doorway that led to my bedroom. He'd been in my bedroom apparently for some time, although I had no idea why he'd have any desire to go back into that haunted space or why he'd feel any need to relive past mistakes and regrets.

     "I hope you don't mind but I didn't want to say goodbye with everyone else still here," Chris said. He had that brilliant smile again but now it was tempered with something else -- some deeper feeling that I hadn't noticed before. He was dressed in an old school T-Shirt and black jeans that I'd never seen before. Somehow the way he was dressed looked out of place, a better choice of dress than usual, which seemed wrong on him now. Remember he never did really know how to dress in a proper manner for his build or his age, not in a way that really made him look great, like he could if he wanted to or at least knew how to. He seemed very comfortable in my home again, which made no sense at all and casually walked over to the sofa and sat down. "Won't the gang miss you if you don't catch up with them," I said. "Probably, or at least eventually, but most of them have a good buzz going and so they won't miss me for a while." He pointed to the sofa next to him and said, "would you mind sitting down with me for a few minutes?" Clearly, he was the man in control here and I the visitor.

     Totally confused, I had no idea what to do. I'd just gotten my thinking back to `normal' after two weeks -- did I really want to start messing things up all over again? "Sure, Chris, I'll make time for you anytime you want me to." What the hell was I saying now? Idiot... Idiot... IDIOT!

     "Did you really mean what you said to me the other day? You know about feeling connected and giving me your calling card information, then telling me I could call anytime I needed to?"  He still had that warm smile on his face, but now there seemed to be an expectant nature to his appearance, he was no longer so sure about himself despite his attempts to appear in control. As if he was waiting for some life and death decision to be pronounced by me at any moment. "I meant every word I said. I want to assure you that I'll be here if you need me, just to talk or shoot the breeze, no matter how long the distance or how much time has passed. I care a great deal for you, even though I can't explain how or why that is" I tried to explain, though the words came out sounding careless and unprepared in my hearing. Like a man pleading for his life.

     He turned his head away briefly and when he turned back he flicked his fingers up to throw the bangs out of his face or was it to wipe something out of his eye, he made it look so casual and easy I couldn't tell. "I feel a big connection to you too, Maxi. Do you mind if I call you Maxi?" he said, with the words falling like rain on desert soil. "No, I don't mind, my brothers and sisters and sometimes my parents used to call me that. Actually it used to annoy me a lot, but somehow it doesn't sound so bad when you say it" I gushed hoping somehow this was going somewhere.

     Suddenly Chris reached across the foot or so that separated us and wrapped his big arms around me tightly. My heart was in my throat and I just froze there. "Thank you for being my friend, Max, you'll never really understand how much or how long I've needed someone else who really cared about me in my life."  He kept crushing me against his chest, and suddenly I understood that empty feeling that had been inside me, moments and even days before, if not for years of my life. Calm warmth started spreading between us and I knew now what I had to do to make things right at last. I gently wrapped my much less densely muscled arms around Chris' chest and back and rested my chin on his shoulder mimicking the night I stole his innocence from him though now instead I tried to convey my own regrets for what had happened and slowly put my mouth up against his ear. I had finally realized what was missing-- what I thought I'd found and then felt I'd lost. The boy froze like a frightened bird and so he seemed to draw perfectly still and rigid as if he was afraid to let go. "I think I love you, Chris. I hope you don't mind? I don't know why I seem to feel this way, but I feel like I've known you for a very, very long time even though we only met a few months ago. I spent a lot of years of my life searching for something, I don't know what really, something I never found, but that stopped some time ago. I'm not looking for anything now," the lie calmly left my tongue as I tried to reassure him. I felt a tear start to roll down one cheek. So, I reached as far around him as I could and drew him tightly against my chest too, while at the same time drawing my breath through his light brownish/blonde hair. He smelled so clean, but I could also smell the aroma of a lingering workout so I knew he must have been to the gym earlier that day. He'd come back for me, I knew now, because I had something he needed, even knowing that I'd betrayed his trust still he was giving me another chance at what was missing in my life, what was missing in his. For several minutes, we just held each other like that. No, there was no kissing, no overt touching I'm not sorry to say. That wouldn't have been appropriate, or that was how it felt to me then and I'm certain he felt the same way too. I don't really know what Chris was feeling at that moment since he didn't say anything, but he didn't mind the embrace, in fact it seemed to strengthen him in some way, like he was preparing for a long ordeal and needed every bit of strength he could gain from whatever sources possible. But, deep down I knew I was the only source he had at that moment, and for that moment, I guess I was enough.

     He pulled me up to my feet as he stood up then pushed away. He took one last deep look into my eyes and said "I'm leaving the state, tomorrow morning. I don't know when, or if, I'll ever be back here. I'm sorry that there isn't anything more I can do or say."  He hugged me fiercely, one last time, slapped me on the back and started to walk away. "You're one amazingly different kind of guy, Maxi." He reached the door and pulled it open and stepped out into the night. My heart was breaking as I watched that door of my life slowly pull closed. Just before the door closed completely, it paused -- then Chris turned around and stepped back into the room briefly -- checking once over his shoulder to see if anyone was near outside. Then he closed the door quietly and looked back at me and barely whispered, "I love you too, Maxi. I don't know why or how either, but I'm not stupid and I know what I feel. I just want you to know that I'm not some queer guy, and I'm not sure I love you the same way you love me. I plan to be married someday and have lots of kids, that's what I've always wanted, to be a better parent than I ever had, but I've never had anyone else who really loved me for just being myself, and somehow I know that you do and for now I need that badly." With a roguish smile, he said, "Hell that's probably something everyone needs their entire life. Don't you think?"

     I felt so awed to realize that someone so young could already understand something so simple and yet so profound about life. He opened the door and started to step outside, but just as he crossed the threshold he turned his head one last time and stared deep into my eyes with those fathomless blue orbs. He took a deep breath and his chest swelled to the point that it seemed he would burst. "I never meant to use you, Max, and I never want to hurt you. Please forgive me if you end up hurting really bad in the end despite what I may do. There are things about me that you don't know -- things that could lead you to get the wrong impressions of me, or about me and you. I hope I can tell you everything someday, but I just can't do that now. I'm not gay, Maxi, but I really think that you might be. That doesn't change how I feel about you, but I know myself and there could never be anything permanent between us, at least not that way. I hope you understand that. Are you sure that you don't want your card back?"  He reached in his jeans pocket and pulled out the now crumpled business card, his last offering to spare me a future not yet written, but one that seemed inevitable all the same. How could either one of us know then that it was already more than two weeks too late?

     My world was awash in strange feelings I'd never had, things I found it hard to acknowledge about myself. Suddenly, I was running as fast as I could away from him. I rushed into my bedroom and pulled open the top dresser drawer, never once looking back or reconsidering my choice. I grabbed another business card and quickly wrote my calling card information on the back again. Then I located a plastic card holder and carefully slid the card into it, holding it possessively, tightly, in my hand. I started to run back out, and then stopped. Slowly I pulled out the card from the holder and wrote a big letter "L" on the card back before inserting the card in the protective plastic cover once again. Finally, with resolve, I calmly walked back out into the living room, a smile on my face. Christopher was still standing in the doorway when I came walking back into the room, but his head was down, his body leaning against the door frame, with grief evident in the way his visage was downcast toward the floor. When he finally heard me return, he looked up, and it seemed like a sparkle of hope flickered briefly in his eyes. I realized then he must have thought that I was running out on him, only to wonder if he was mistaken instead. Breathlessly, I handed him the card enclosed in the protective plastic cover. "That card won't last a few weeks, let alone months, or years the way you're caring for it now, you idiot" I laughed at him still with some tears in my eyes, and let him take the card. He stared at the back and then saw the big letter "L" and got this confused look on his face, "What's this mean?" he asked me. I raised my right hand and made a big letter L with my index finger and thumb while also trying to use my other hand to dry the last of the moisture from my sight. "To most people it signifies `loser' but between us it means that I love you, even if I can never really show you in public. It'll be our secret joke between us, with everyone thinking we're razzing each other and suggesting the other one is a loser, but really instead it means we love each other, regardless of why or what others may think." He got that big smile on his face again and swallowed suddenly as if afraid to believe this moment was real -- I understood that he didn't know what else to say. He walked out the door, while I followed him out into the parking lot; we were both composed now so none would be the wiser regarding anything that had taken place just moments before. Just then a small group of his friends drove up toward us rapidly. "Hey Chris, here you are! Wow man, we thought we'd lost you somewhere... What're you doing still here?"

     Chris jumped in his car as another friend got out and dove into his passenger front seat. He was so flushed at that moment -- he seemed to be bursting with life and joy. "Heck I couldn't leave without telling Max here what a loser he is because he can't keep up with us young dudes!"  He flashed a big letter "L" with his right hand and laughed really loud infecting everyone else in his wake. The rest of the group laughed along with him and one kid said, "Yea, Max, you're lots of fun, especially for an old guy, but you'd never be able to keep up with us." Then their tires squealed as they all raced off into the night, and the stars seemed to dim as one of their number was leaving my sight.

     I wrote to Chris frequently over the next few weeks, then months, and we talked on the phone long distance more times than I can remember. As long as no one was around he'd whisper that he loved me at the end of each call and I'd say the same things and more back to him. Neither one of us understood what it really meant at that time nor why it'd happened. There'd only been that one brief night together, which we never talked about in our conversations during that time -- and it didn't really feel finished or complete in anyway and somehow that never seemed to be important. I think we both knew that we still would've felt the same way whether or not we'd ever touched each other like we did on that night or not. Somehow we were connected on some unknown and unbelievable level -- soul matched if you will. Soul brothers, maybe, but who can explain? As time went by Chris began to tell me more and more about his true feelings, his fears, hopes, dreams and sorrows. He even began to explain that seven years wasn't really much difference in age, certainly nothing to him, although I laughed and reminded him that such an issue depended on one's perspective, to which he just laughed and agreed to disagree. Chris moved back to my area by the next summer, but that's another part of the story entirely. We had many journeys through life together; we lived, grew, loved and cried together -- so many times. But Chris always remained true to himself and to me in his own way. And I have ever been faithful to him. You see I totally understand myself now. My name is Max and I will always love Christopher, until my final breath.      

     I'm sorry if this part of the story isn't as erotic as you might have wished for, but you had to have the background, the beginning, to understand where the story ends up going in the future and nearing the end. Things definitely became more intense later on and I eventually learned all of Chris' secrets -- just as he ended up learning all of mine (we both had many, too many). The story goes on for a very long time and there are a great many twists and turns, surprises, shattered promises and more passion and love than most anyone ever sees in their lifetime. Many dark secrets were revealed that explained so much about what had happened that first night and why. More dark things happened later on as well. But the story doesn't go the way you might think it would or could have or even should have, but neither one of us regret where we ended up, not at all, though how it will end when that happens will be something too much to bear for most. Whether there's any truth to this story, well legally for safety I guess we should say no, but if you get to hear the entire tale, then you tell me whether or not someone could really make this up from nothing. I mean come on -- fiction would have lots more passion and many more verbs wouldn't it?

     At this time in the story, I'm simply Max, a confused college grad and professional trying to get by in life. During this same period, Chris is a young man in need of something and someone, but uncertain if what he's found will sustain him or ever be enough in his life to come. Why don't we leave you with this for now, let's just call this the beginning of " The Story of Max and Chris ", Ok? If there's time enough to come, then and only then you'll understand what it truly means to be On Straight and Narrow . If you reach that point you'll have a vitally important decision to make for yourself, and we, Chris and I , can only hope you chose more wisely then than we did, because down that road is something few outside of the Almighty ever dare to risk or strive to try for. Choose well, dear friend, choose well, and perhaps your story will be even brighter and more magnificent than ours, otherwise you could find yourself in a love you never dreamed possible, joined in a life of union that from all mortal perspective should be unattainable, and so unable to leave an existence of bliss so radiant and compelling that enduring simply becomes the greatest sorrow you could ever possibly understand.

*** End of # 1 ***