Date: Wed, 16 Oct 2002 13:23:33 -0700 (PDT) From: stanleystevens Subject: Al & Me The first time I fell in love, it was just like they said it would be, at first sight. I'd only been in town for seventy- two hours, and here I was, a fourteen years old boy, in love with a thirteen-year-old boy. His name was Al, and the only mistake he'd made that day, was being sent to the principal's office, to show a new student around the campus, and take him to homeroom. As he gave me the tour, he tried to ask a few simple questions like where was I from; I was so taken by him, all I could do was stutter. Looking back it was funny, even though I had no idea that men could love each other, I knew I loved this boy. It took me three years to convince him that what I had in mind was like a force of nature, and would be imposable to deny. We played football together. I was on the line, and he was a running back. By our junior year, everyone had it figured out that when they ran Al over my position, you'd better get out of the way, or I'd hurt you. During my senior year I broke an opponents arm because I thought he had hurt Al during a play we ran. I'm getting ahead of myself. When it actually happened, it was almost by accident. It was the summer between our junior and senior years. We both had to go over to summer school in Waco, or we wouldn't graduate. We hitched a ride with a friend Ken, and his Mother, who was doing graduate work at Baylor. Everyday we'd sit in the back seat of their car driving back and forth. I loved talking to Ken's Mom. She seemed like the smartest person I'd ever meet. I spent most of every trip leaning up against the back of the front seat, hanging onto her every word. One afternoon, and as God is my witness I'll never know where I got the nerve, I reached out, took hold of Al's leg, and started messaging his calf. Well one thing lead to another, and a few day later I found myself also messaging his hard cock through the tough fabric of his new 501s, his mom had bought him for the up coming school year. This went on for a week or so, when Al asked me if I wanted to come over to his house after work, and study for a biology exam. I said "Sure". I got there around four. Their house was one of those great big old white clapboard barns, all deep set screened in porches, big windows, and high ceilings, built to take full advantage of what ever nature offered to keep you cool before the days of air conditioning. The front door was open. Cupping my hand around my eyes, to shield them from the bright Texas sunlight surrounding me, I peered through the screen door into the dark cool interior, and knocked. Al never walked, he moved with the exuberance of a young bull. I heard the house rumbling as he made his way to the top of the stairs, and bounded down them two or three at a time, landing at the bottom with a boom. Like most everything else he did in life he didn't arrive at the front door, he exploded there. When he slung it open for me to enter, I realized that all he was wearing was a pair of those stiff new jeans, and he was still damp from a shower. Standing there looking at him made my heart race and my body tremble. You have to understand, back then Al's body was special, he was five six, or maybe seven, if he stretched real hard, a hundred and eighty pounds, with a thirty-inch waist, a forty-four inch chest, and if he had another muscle, he would have had to push it around in a wheelbarrow. This was before the days of the male body as a sexual weapon. He was one of only a half dozen guys in our school, with that kind of build. As we climbed the stairs to his bedroom, it was all I could do not to reach out and stroke his butt. Entering his room, he went over and dropped down on the weight bench over in the corner. Reaching up he took hold of the bar bell and lifted it up off it's rest. Looking across the room at me, he told me to get my ass over there and spot for him. I stood there at the head of the bench as long as I could stand it, admiring his body as he pumped away at the weights. Suddenly my world seemed to spin out of control. The next thing I knew, I was sitting on the end of the bench, up tight between his legs, ripping open the buttons on his jeans with one hand, as I held him down with the other. He stopped a lift in mid air as his cock sprang clear of its confinement, and slapped hard against his left thigh. I had seen it hundreds of time in the locker room, but it had always been soft. I had even felt its hardness through the fabric of his jeans in the back seat of the car. But this was more then I ever expected. It was narrow at the base, but large beyond what my limited experience had prepared me for at the head. I wasn't sure if I could even get it in my mouth. At this point in my life, I'd never considered sucking someone, unless we were in a sixty-nine during our first tryst, or they had done me first. That day I didn't care. I just leaned over slowly, looking him directly in the eyes as I went, and forced his massive piece of flesh down my throat. Back then; there was no cuming in my mouth. Usually after a suck fest, my partner and I would finish each other off with a hand job. That day I was too confused to even consider it. Somewhere along the line, I just stopped, stood up, suggested we'd better start studying, and walked over and lay down on his bed, next to where I had dropped my books. He didn't object, he just shoved his cock back into his jeans, got up, walked over to the bed, plopped down beside me, and picked up a book. For days after that, we never talked about what had happened. We just drove back and forth to school. Al would occasionally push his leg up against me for his message, sliding forward on the seat, so I could reach his crouch, all of which, for some stupid reason, I refused to do. All that came to a head about a week and a half after the event, as I now thought of that late afternoon in his bedroom. It was just after sun set, I was sitting out in the front yard. Al drove up in his old blue beat up, fifty-one Chevy. Sliding to a halt in front of our house, he leaned out the window, and growled, "Get in". I did. Without either of us speaking a word, he drove us out to the edge of town, into the middle of a defunct subdivision that had never gotten off the ground. All the kids in town used it for a parking spot. You had to be careful when you got out of your car and walked around. You might slip on a used condom. He drove us to one of the more secluded areas. Letting the car roll to a stop, he flipped off the lights, turned to face me, propped his right leg up on the seat between us, and asked me what I wanted to do. I knew what I wanted to do, but instead I said I didn't know what he meant. He leaned forward, grabbed me by the back of head, pulled me over and down onto his crouch, threw his legs around my neck, and hissed, "Suck me". I pushed hard against him and screamed, "Fuck you, you son of a bitch". Suddenly I felt him relax, and like a little boy pleading for his supper, he whispered, "Please". What could I do but lean down into the middle of his incredible masculine beauty, and make love to him. This time I made him cum. Maybe not in me, but with a force that would ravage my mind for years. There are many things about that evening I'll never forget. The most important was the way he smelled. His body was Dial Soap, and English Leather Cologne, mixed with the scent of freshly laundered and bleached white cotton jockey shorts. When you blended all that with the smell of an old car, you know what I mean; old grease and oil, mixed with the burnt fumes of leaded gas, the rust of old metal, and the stuffing of worn out seats. Does it get any better then that? The most important aroma of all, was the smell of the two young wild animals, tearing at each other in the front of that beat up old jalopy. Well, what more can I say, but I'm a fortunate man? I've loved other men in my life, and have had incredible experiences with them, but no moment has ever been sweeter or more defining than that one.