My own story of ... Unrequited Love!

By: Tickie
(Copyrighted 2006 by the author)
Editor: HetepHamaMeret
Co-Editor: Radio Rancher


This story is true; only the names and places are changed.

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at

I met my best friend, Matt, in high school when I was a junior and he was a freshman. We walked the two miles to school every morning, and always walked home together; he lived across the street from me. He was a beautiful boy, stood at almost six feet tall, and had a swimmer's body, dark brown hair, and beautiful hazel green eyes.

I truly fell in love with him at first sight, but to this day, I could never tell him that, for fear of losing the best friend I ever had; and to this day, he still is my best friend. Of course, now I know I made the right decision back then. For I am as sure as I can be that he is as straight as an arrow.

But here I am again, getting ahead of my story.

Every weekend we seemed to have fun together. We lived in a place that was in a small valley where we could hike to the top of a ridge. It was far enough away from the houses so that we were able to hunt small game together with our .22 rifles, and we had so much fun doing that. I can remember many times going up on the ridge and taking lunches with us, and sitting under the oak trees eating and just bull-shitting about almost everything you could think of, but mostly about hunting and fishing. We were both avid sportsmen in that sense.

We often went to movies together, but neither of us had a car, so we were pretty much afoot.

I, the youngest in our family of five siblings and the only one living at home at this time, was just twelve when Father died, and Mother had to work to keep a roof over our heads. Matt, on the other hand, had both his parents and they treated me well. Of course, Matt was an only child and that made it harder for him to get away at times.

I remember one time when we went duck hunting out on a levee about twenty-five miles from home. His dad drove us out there, and told us he would come back to pick us up later in the day. It was a cloudy day, which was good for hunting, but not so good if it rained, as it did, in fact, later in the day.

We were just happy to be out by ourselves, away from prying eyes, I hoped. The hunting was not going well when it started to rain, so we gathered up wood to build a fire. It was nice to stand around the fire, regardless of the smoke. We did get wet, though, and when it stopped raining, we got out of our wet clothes and stood around the fire trying to dry them.

It was so funny, perhaps awkward, then, but that was the first time I ever saw Matt in just his jockey shorts, and the first time he ever saw me in mine.

I wanted so badly to tell him how I felt, how I really felt about him, but the overwhelming fear of losing him haunted me, and I lost any nerve I might have had, to say anything.

I had never seen Matt without clothes at school for we were in two different grades, so we never showered or took PE together. We lived so close together that we never even slept over. What reason could we give our parents? You must remember ... this all took place back in the middle of the 1950's.

It was at the end of that school year that Mother and I had to move. I was so upset; Matt was, too. It was so hard to have to leave him 'cause I really thought our friendship was going to be over. I was moving over a hundred miles away, and my heart broke just thinking of not seeing him, of not being near him, of not being able to simply put my hand on his shoulder, of not being together, of losing him, of being alone.

The next few years in a new school and new surroundings were a drain on me. Matt and I did talk now and then on the phone, and we exchanged a few letters, but we really started drifting apart. It got to a point where we stopped communicating completely for some time.

While I was finishing my senior year in Sacramento, Matt was still in high school in Fairfax, California. As I said, we lost contact. I really felt I had lost him forever.

I continued to live in Sacramento for the next couple years working at odd jobs, never really finding many friends; a few I would call friends at the time, but none of them lasted when I finally moved back to Fairfax, to work for my brother-in-law in the construction business. I was now working, but still without a car. And I once again made contact with Matt, my old best friend, but it wasn't all honey and roses. He had made new friends and I was now kind of the outsider in his group.

He was still in high school, with his friends, but at that time no girl friend. That got my hopes up again! Oh, how I wanted to just say to Matt, "I love you!" However, that would not happen.

We started to go fishing and hunting again, when I had the time, which was not a lot. After what seemed like months had passed, I began inviting Matt over to the house which I shared with my sister, her husband, and their two boys, but I was never really able to be alone with Matt.

However, one weekend my sister and family left for a short holiday and that left me with the house to myself. I asked Matt to come and spend the night, and he did. We enjoyed going out to dinner and then to a movie, after which we came home and of course, he would sleep in the guest room and I, in my room.

I noticed he was in the bathroom for a long time so I was snooping and saw through an open window that he was lying on the floor of the bathroom jacking-off. God, that turned me on! I had my cock out in a flash, pounding away, as I watched him enjoying himself. I was so temped to just go back in, knock on the bathroom door, say "come on out here, and let's do that together."

But, God ... there is that damned word 'BUT' again ... I was scared shitless he would call me a pervert and never speak to me again.

Well anyway, he finally came out of the bathroom, and we chatted most of the night away, and then off to the separate bedrooms we went.

We went fishing the next day and had great fun as always, as two friends, and one silent lover; yes, I felt I was the only one in love, the only one who loved the other.

The relationship, if you could call it that, went on for a few more months. I was getting bored with working pittance, board and room and very little spending money. I had been in the California Cadet Corps all through high school and loved the idea of the military. Therefore, one day in May of 1960, I decided to go to the Army recruiter and sign up with a report date at the end of June the same year. I told no one what I was doing, not my Mother, nor anyone else for that matter, until about three weeks before I was to leave for basic training.

Matt was the first one I told, and he was shocked, to say the least, but was supportive of me. He knew how much I liked the military life style, so he asked me if there was something ... anything ... we could do before I left. We both thought about that for a long time, until I finally told my sister that I was going to be leaving for the service and wanted to know if I could use their mountain cabin in the northern part of California. I wanted to spend a few weeks up there before I left. I was able to talk them into letting Matt and me spend ten days there, but only the first seven days of the trip could Matt and I be alone.

Matt was excited about the trip, and finally got his folks to agree. I had bought my first car, a 1948 Ford coupe, and it burned more oil than it did gas. However, it was a way for Matt and me to get where we wanted to be, together. We loved the outdoors and the fishing would be great, and I so wanted to be with him, before leaving for three years.

I had a hardon every time I thought about the two of us together; we were going to be going fishing, swimming ... probably skinny-dipping ..., and sleeping in the same bed. Oh, God, I wanted him so intensely! All I could think about was that he still had no girl friend. This was leading me down a dangerous path, but ... could I cross the line and tell him how I felt, how I really and truly felt about him? It was pulling at every heartstring I had. The night before we left, I cried myself to sleep, more than once thinking about him. I woke up so many times, it was nearly a sleepless night.

The morning finally dawned on that eventful day when we were able to leave on the trip. I remember how excited I was at just the thought of him and me being alone in the same cabin, with only one double bed.

We left for our vacation as soon as I got off work on a Friday. I picked Matt up at his house. We loaded his gear and then he went back into the house to say goodbye to his parents. He came running out with a huge smile on his face; I just knew he was as excited as I was about the trip.

In the back of my mind was the fact that I only had three more weeks of freedom, yes, freedom, for at the end of it was Basic Training at Fort Ord, California. I was starting to wonder if I had made the right choice. If what I wanted to happen with Matt did, what was I going to do now? However, if it weren't for me leaving, then this trip most likely would not have happened. What a thought! But it was too late now; I was definitely committed to the Army for the next three years.

We pulled out of San Rafael at about 4:30 pm heading for the Feather River country in the high Sierras; what a gorgeous place. It got to be somewhat hilarious, our stopping to put oil in the old Ford about every hundred miles or so. This got a chuckle out of Matt each time. Only once did we actually stop for gas and food.

We arrived at the cabin after dark, and since it was Matt's first time to see it, we had to check out everything and get the place ready to live in, for a couple weeks. First order of business was to turn on the power at the meter. Then before we could do anything, we needed some heat. I made sure the water heater was on while Matt brought in some firewood and built a fire in the fireplace. I opened up all the windows for a short time, because of the mustiness and stale air in the cabin.

Matt and I just talked about things we wanted to do the next day. Then came the hardest night of my life. After an hour or so, I told Matt he could take the first shower if he wanted to, and of course, he did, and then it was my turn. When I came out of the shower in my jockeys, I noticed he had on a robe. What a let down! I was so in hopes it was warm enough in the cabin so he would feel the robe wasn't needed.

I guess the big question was who would get the inside of the double bed, because the bedroom was just too small to allow enough room on both sides of the bed. So we flipped a coin for the outside edge. It was funny, too; I lost in more ways than one.

I closed up the cabin and headed for the bedroom to find Matt standing next to the bed waiting for me to get in. Christ, I wanted to just crawl over him, but I guess that wasn't going to happen either. So anyway, I got into bed and slid over to the wall, and then Matt got in, and turned over facing the door. And we (or should I say, "he") fell asleep; I lay there most of the night wishing he would just roll over and face me.

After what seemed like hours had passed, I rolled over toward Matt and rested my right arm over his side. The touch of my skin to his was shocking, and oh, soooo wonderful. I had to fight back my erection. I was so scared he would wake up and feel it, that I held my hips back away from his butt. But I still kept my arm over him.

I didn't know if he was a sound sleeper or not, but he was snoring softly. I wanted so much to kiss him and hold him. My God, I wanted him in the hardest way (pun intended). I got brave and gently, slowly, stretched out the fingers of my hand, inching toward the waist band of his jockeys. God! Why couldn't he have worn boxers? They would have been so much easer to invade and find what I was seeking.

It must have taken me hours to find his erection. Oh, God, yes; he was hard, oh, so very hard, and it felt wonderful. I wanted to stroke it, but all I could do is rest my hand on it and press it gently toward his stomach. When I did that, it flexed with little electrifying jerks as I applied the gentle pressure on it.

I don't know when I fell asleep or what happened while I was sleeping, but I do remember that I woke up with wet jockeys. Wet dream maybe, but I did not know for sure.

We got up that next morning and I had to take a shower, and of course put on new jockeys. We had a good breakfast and took off for the lake for a fun day of fishing. We planned on being back at the cabin for lunch and then off to the river for an afternoon of playing in the water and swimming. Of course we wore those damned swimming suits we'd brought with us; why wouldn't we? Yeah, right!

There was a small breeding pond/lake in front of the cabin. No fishing was allowed, but it was still a pond with much warmer water and much more privacy than the river. There was a small wooden boat at the dock, and we were allowed to use it. We always did, just to look at the very large trout that were breeders. We just rowed around the lake, enjoying the place.

Then, after lunch and some goofing around, I talked Matt into going to the river to swim, for you could dive off the old bridge abutment, and it was loads of fun doing it. While at the river we swam, in swimwear, really enjoyed the day, and by the time it was late in the afternoon, we decided to go back and get our fishing gear again, and fish the river until it was too dark to fish any longer. Then back to the cabin for dinner of fried fresh fish of the day, and other items, can't remember everything, can you?

But I do remember how much I loved Matt, and wanted to be with him as much as I could. Even if it was only being close to him and being with him all the time.

It was after dinner that we started talking about survival in the wild and woolly outdoors, and what you could do to survive. Like what the law said about killing porcupines being illegal because you could kill them with a club as they are relatively slow moving animals.

One thing lead to another, and we got in the car, taking our .22 rifle and headed up a long winding mountain road looking for ... you guessed it ... we found our illegal porcupine walking up the road. Matt got out, took careful aim, and fired one shot and killed the critter. Then came the fun!

We (or should I say, "he") had to field dress that critter, and when it was done we took it back to the cabin and I tried to cook it that night. Wrong thing to do! It stank so badly, we discarded it at once! The cabin smelled so offensively to high heavens, that we had to open every window in the place. So much for survival of the fittest.

We both agreed, "Leave the porcupines to those that are really starving to death; just not us!" Of course, we had different kinds of sandwiches for dinner that night.

Then bedtime came up in the conversation, so off to bed, in the same bed again. After we both had showered, Matt came into the main part of the cabin dressed only in his jockeys; no robe tonight, my heart was pumping fast and hard. I got up, headed for the bathroom, took my shower, and came back out dressed the same as Matt. We both just sat around the fire, bull-shitting for the remainder of the night, until bedtime.

I don't remember who wanted to go to bed, but we did, in the same places as the night before, and we started out the night the same.

Of course, I didn't go to sleep for several hours. I contented myself, doing the same things, I had done the night before. The only difference was ... I almost was caught in the act.

Sometimes, I wish I had been caught red-handed (or "wet-handed" as the case may have been), and yet to this day, I think back and ... and I greatfully thank God that I wasn't!

I again rolled over and pressed my body into Matt -- only ... on that particular night, I let my hips and cock touch his butt. Unbelievably, I was able to will my erection to stay down. However, that did not stop my hands from roaming his body as he slept.

I again felt his hardon during the night, and wished I could do more then just touch it, and as I tried, ever so gently, he woke with a jerk.

I pulled back and lay there, not breathing, not moving so much as a twitch, from any part of my body. He tried to roll over towards me, so I rolled over facing the wall, and just waited and hoped he would come to me.

He did ... and rested his arm over my side. I stayed awake most of the night, hoping he would do more, start something, ANYTHING at all. "Please, please, please," I silently begged and prayed to him.

I don't remember going to sleep that night, but I do remember Matt calling me from the door saying that we needed to get a move on. We had another full day of fun planned, and we wanted to play. I got up, took care of the morning necessities, and found Matt cooking pancakes for breakfast. We always joked about everything and nothing, we were happy together.

Yes, yes, yes, I loved him, and I'm sure he loved me, too; just not in the same way.

The day was wonderful. We fished the Feather River again, and when it got hot in the afternoon, we broke for a swim in the river again. But this time, we found the beach area void of anyone but us. Matt wanted to go back to the cabin to get his trunks, but I egged him on.

Calling him a chicken not to go in his birthday suit, he finally gave in and we did just that. For the first time in my life, I saw him openly naked in front of me. Oh, my God, he was handsome, sexy, perfect. I looked like a pale ghost compared to him. He was tan all over except for the white, alabaster-like skin around his waist, and his slightly darker cock was the most beautiful that I could have ever imagined.

I had to get into the river very quickly or I would have been embarrassed, sporting a hardon. The cold water wasn't doing that much to help my situation. However, we did have fun, playing and splashing each other for some time. But all too soon, we noticed a vehicle approaching, so we quickly got dressed. I remember how funny it was, trying to put dry clothes on wet bodies. We joked about that all the way back to the cabin.

That night, we started the grill outside, cooked some hamburgers, and enjoyed the night air, and the sounds of the crickets and frogs around the pond in front of the little cabin.

We took a flashlight, went down to the docks, and watched the breeder trout swimming close to the lighted surface of the water near where we were standing. We both were dressed in just jeans and pull-over shirts.

Matt is a fun loving guy. He took the opportunity to push me into the pond, and that shocked the hell out of me. The water was cold; not as cold as the river, though, and as soon as I hit the water, he took off for the cabin.

I pulled myself out of the lake and by the time I got to the cabin, Matt had the shower going for me. I remember him saying he was sorry, but he would do it again if he had the chance. I just gave him a dirty look, and said, "Your day is coming."

I remember getting him back later in the week for that.

Everyday after that was more of the same. Fishing, swimming in the river or the pond, playing our silly games, and sleeping together in the double bed, and I stayed awake every night, hoping for a way I could share my love for him and with him. The realization was soon dawning on me that I was not going to get to share it in the way I wanted to, but that I would only be able to share it in the only acceptable way possible -- being his best friend.

On the eighth day of our vacation, my brother-in-law and sister arrived and the rest of the vacation turned into a working one. Matt and I ended up sleeping in the loft on an air mattress that went flat every night. Yes, it was fun, but goofy to say the least. However, we did enjoy each other's company and friendship.

Over the next few days, Matt, Jim and I, went fishing in the larger lake, using a sixteen-foot motor-boat my brother-in-law, Jim, had brought up to the cabin for the summer ahead. We also worked the property over, cleaning up all the crap left by the falling snow of the past winter. Haven't you ever noticed Mother Nature dropping beer cans, coke cans, and the like? Well anyway, we ended up with enough trash to haul to the dump, over the next few days.

On the last day of our vacation, Matt, Jim and I were loading the last of the stuffed trash bags into the pickup, and I tried to close the tailgate of the truck. It was giving me fits. Because of trash in the way, I didn't see Matt trying to get something out of the tailgate frame.

I slammed the tailgate closed and Matt screamed. It scared the hell out of me! I looked over to see what was wrong. Matt was holding his index finger and the blood was gushing out onto the ground and all over his hand and down his arm. I felt like I was going to pass out.

Jim rushed over and quickly took Matt inside the cabin so my sister could check him out and bandage his finger. I was so scared that I had cut it off, and was blaming myself for it. I ran into the cabin to find my sister working, soothing, and comforting him with all the loving care she could give. She worked in a hospital as an X-ray Technician for many years, and was not only capable of handling the emergency, but was much calmer than I was, for sure.

All I could say was, "I am so sorry, Matt, please forgive me." I just kept saying that over and over and over until finally she told me to leave the room.

When Matt was stitched properly and was calm enough to understand that he was all right, he came to find me and told me it was all his fault for not looking to see what I was doing. I told him again that I was sorry, but held back from telling him that I wanted, at the moment, to hold him and comfort him, as my brother-in-law was standing there looking on.

So I just told Matt to stay at the cabin while Jim and I took the last load of trash to the dump.

Matt was given some minor pain medication for the pain he was beginning to feel in his finger. When all was said and done, what actually happened was that just the very tip of the index finger was cut almost off; it was still hanging on by a very small amoung of skin. My sister used butterfly stitches to hold the tip in place, and to this day, he still has the complete finger, but no feeling at the very end of it.

The next morning Matt and I left for home, and again the trip was as much fun as it could have been, with my best friend in pain, and not able to use his hand very well. But we did enjoy our vacation time together. Even now, years later, we still talk about those days at the cabin, and how much fun we had. Of course, the finger is shown every now and then too, in a joking manner.

Matt's mother took him to their doctor, on the Monday after we came home, and he told Matt and his mother that the job my sister had done was as good as it could have been in a hospital and he wasn't going to touch it. He just gave him some stronger pain medication for a few more days.

The next few nights, Matt and I spent more time together. He knew I was going to leave for the Army very soon, and he wasn't happy about it. But neither was I.

I was to leave with the recruiter the next morning at 7:30 am. So the night before, Matt and I just went to the drive-in movies in San Rafael, and took in the double feature. I can't tell you what we saw, only that we watched the movies. Afterwards, for some reason unknown to him, I asked him to drive me home, in my car. He pulled up in front of the house, and I surprised him by giving him the title to the car. He was shocked, to say the least, but he knew I had no one else to leave it with -- no one that wanted it, anyway. It wasn't the best car in the world by far, but it did take us on the most wonderful vacation I had ever had with my very best and truest friend in the whole world.

The next day started me on a totally new direction in my life. I can tell you now that the "Don't ask. Don't tell" policy is the only way I was able to retire from the US Army with over twenty-three years of service to this great country of ours.

Matt, to this day, is still my very best friend in the world, and we would do anything for each other. I just wish in someway we could have been more then just best friends ... much more ... much, much more ... but as the Goddess Destiny would ordain -- never to be lovers -- in this lifetime.