I was hanging out with Angie
on a Monday evening the first time the feeling really gripped me.
We were poolside at Angie's,
relaxing, enjoying the summer evening. A rain had come through earlier
in the day and cooled things down. The gathering dusk, the sunset
pastels painting the sky, the beautifully landscaped back yard that
Angie's mom tended with such care, all combined to put us in a romantic
mood. Her dad had been swimming laps earlier and had the radio tuned to
an oldies station; we hadn't bothered to change it. Now her parents
were out to dinner and a movie, and the two of us were enjoying the
She was dangling her feet in
the water and I was sitting behind her. I was massaging her shoulders
and stopping occasionally to kiss her. It was "Mellow Monday" on the
radio station and the DJ was playing it laid-back, soulful, and wistful
with slow tunes from the seventies. As the old Kansas song "Dust in the
Wind" faded out, I heard the mournful opening piano licks of a Bob
Seger tune my dad loved.
It was the words, that voice,
that brought it all on:
was long ago:
lovely; she was the queen of my nights,
the darkness with the radio playin' low...
secrets that we shared,
mountains that we moved--
like a wildfire out of control,
was nothing left to burn, and nothing left to prove.
remember what she said to me,
swore that it never would end;
how she held me, oh so tight;
didn't know now what I didn't know then:
runnin' against the wind.
young and strong: we were running against the wind.
As the song played, my mood began to shift a little. Before I'd had a
chance to realize it, I was brooding over the words.
"Wish I didn't know now what I
didn't know then"...Did it happen like that?
Couldn’t be; I was eighteen
and I knew where I was headed. As summer vacation faded into my last
year of high school, life was good.
I did a quick inventory of the
signposts. By any measure you could care to use, high school had been
successful for me. I'd established myself with teachers and peers
alike; I had a tight group of friends; and I was an athlete. I had a
great social life, and I got along with pretty much everyone.
I'd gotten some looks from a
number of universities. My grade-point average was high. Not
stratospheric, like Angie's; she was on her way to becoming class
salutatorian, while I tended to skate by on my ability without pushing
the extra mile. Still, I'd be graduating in the top ten. And my SAT
scores were strong.
Several of the coaches I'd
been talking with had made some tentative verbal offers of
soccer-scholarship money, and all of them had said I'd be eligible for
a variety of academic scholarships. I was strongly leaning toward a
particular small liberal-arts college in the state; it had strong
industry connections in computer science, which suited my future plans
well. And it had a strong soccer team; I'd been told by the admissions
department that between my academics and my soccer, I could very likely
count on a full ride.
My thoughts turned from my own
future toward my buddy Matt's. He was also getting some looks from
universities because of his football talent. His grades were solid: if
things held, he’d be graduating with a B average. I took some
satisfaction in that, because I'd worked hard to keep him going
academically. In particular, there was a smaller Division II school up
north that was looking to recruit a freshman quarterback with a strong
arm. Matt looked like a great prospect to them, so there was every
possibility that he would be attending college above the Mason-Dixon
Angie, for her part, knew
exactly where she was heading: the University of Texas with a biology
major, to be followed by medical school.
The sound of her feet
splashing in the water broke in on my musings. I tried to force my
thoughts back into the here-and-now. The future would take care of
itself; right now I had this night, and a year of high school
ahead, and a girlfriend and a best friend with whom I could enjoy it
all. I'd known them for a decade; they were part of a world whose
stability and security I'd taken for granted.
But that was the problem,
wasn't it? Decades come to an end. And here I was, totally immersed in
a world that would likely fade out forever as the three of us walked
across the stage, took our diplomas, and walked on in different
As I sat there, the Bob Seger
tune ate at me. "Wish I didn’t know now what I didn’t know then"...the
words kept pulling me away from Angie's back yard and into my head,
where half-formed thoughts and impossible questions began to chase each
What will this year bring...or
the year after that?
Are we running against the wind?
You have another question, I heard
a voice inside say.
I stopped massaging Angie's
"Andy, what's wrong?"
I didn't hear her at first.
"Huh? Nothing...just daydreaming." I kissed her and began rubbing her
back. I needed a distraction. Without warning, I pushed her into the
pool, and dived in after her. She screamed in surprise, and before I'd
had a chance to orient myself after I surfaced, she dunked me in
retaliation. I swam under her, came up behind her, and unhooked her
bikini top. Then I swam her into standing depth, pulled her back up
against my chest, and cupped her breasts in my hands, kissing her on
the neck and shoulders.
I know how to deal with
mind-games, I told the voice.
I'll be back, it assured me.
The football team began the
school year with some confidence. It looked as though we had a chance
to be contenders in the district, possibly beyond.
The first weekend in September
we were scheduled for our second game of the season. I had high hopes
for the weekend; we'd won our first game in a 31-3 rout against a tough
team, so we were feeling pretty good about ourselves and our chances on
Friday. On top of that, the Monday after was a teacher workday, so we'd
be having a three-day weekend, our second in a row. I was looking
forward to celebrating our impending victory with a couple of days of
But when Friday night's game
came around, we found ourselves in a dogfight. Our offense played well,
but so did theirs. The battle was hard-fought, and exhausting; finally,
in the last half-minute of play, we managed a victory, 31-28.
I'd taken a beating from their
defense; there were bruises on my bruises. Still, there's nothing like
a victory to spike the adrenaline. The hell with exhaustion; I was
ready to celebrate.
We were whooping it up in the
locker room after the game. I was goofing around with Matt when
inspiration hit me. "Matt...let's go to the beach for the weekend. Just
you and me. One last summer fling."
Matt's look told me he thought
I was nuts; the beach was an 8-hour drive south.
I said, "I'm serious. I don't
have shit to do this weekend and I wanna fuckin' go to the beach!"
"Now! Let's just run home and
grab some shit and go."
He was dubious. "Where are we
"Let's see if Ruben's folks
have the condo rented out; if not, we can snag the keys. You know
they'll let us. Even if we can't, we can just take your van and camp on
the beach. C'mon, Matt, let's fuckin' do it!"
Matt shook his head, rolled
his eyes...and finally broke into a there's-no-point-in-arguing grin.
So we showered up and went
home. Everybody was still awake at my house. My dad congratulated me on
the game and we talked about it a little; then I called over to
It was a go. I invited Ruben
to come along, but he had weekend plans that involved his girlfriend.
That was fine with me; I’d been spending most of my time with Angie
lately and hadn’t had much opportunity to hang out with my bud. I was
looking forward to spending a weekend with Matt, relaxing and goofing
around on the beach.
I took a few minutes to get
some supplies together. Then I went down the hall to Beth’s room
and asked if I could borrow her boom box for a couple of days. "Okay,"
she said, "But I’ll kill you if you get sand or saltwater in it."
"Come here, girl," I said,
pulling her into a hug. "I promise if I ruin it I’ll buy you a new one."
I took it back to my room and
started carrying all the stuff downstairs to the driveway. Matt got
there around 11:45, and we set off at midnight.
We made it to Mustang Island
around eight o'clock the next morning. When we got to the condo, we
unloaded the van, then collapsed on the big bed in the front bedroom
for a few hours of sleep.
I'd set the alarm for 1 p.m.
When it went off, I got up and moved my stuff to the back bedroom so
we'd each have a room to ourselves. Matt broke out the sandwiches and
beer we'd packed in the ice chest. We had lunch out on the balcony,
enjoying the ocean view. Then we changed into some beachwear and spent
a day in the sun and the surf.
September in Texas is still
summer; the weather was ideal. The weekend had turned out to be perfect
for spending time in the surf. We swam, drank a lot of beer, fished,
and cooked our catch; we played some beach volleyball with a few other
high school kids and college types who were there for the weekend; and
talked a little, one-on-one, with some of the ladies. There weren’t any
crowds; the weekend after Labor Day wasn't a high-traffic period.
That evening we ended up at
the pool. The condo had a football-field-length swimming pool divided
into four tiers, each tier lower than the one before it and connected
to the previous one by a waterfall. At the deep end there was a giant
water slide, and a diving board. Around the perimeter there were about
six hot tubs; there was also an island with a hot tub in the middle of
About ten o'clock that
evening, Matt and I found ourselves in the hot tub on the island, with
two college girls. There were only a few other people in that whole
huge pool; it felt deserted.
I was talking with a blond
named Candace. We'd gravitated toward each other since we first met
earlier in the day. I had to keep the willpower going full-throttle,
because she was putting the moves on me. It was an effort not to hook
up, but I had no intention of cheating on Angie.
Matt was enjoying the
attention of a brown-haired knockout named Brooke. And Matt wasn't
spoken for, so there was a little more going on there. When Candace
started making me sweat a little too much I decided I needed to cool
down, so I offered to buy her a drink. There was actually a bar in the
pool, and Matt and I had gotten fake ID's made during the summer.
I pulled myself out of the
tub, tugging at my swim trunks to keep them from clinging to me and
calling attention to the bone-on I had going. I walked over to the
chair where I'd put my stuff. Reaching under my towel, I pulled a
twenty and my ID out of my wallet. As I stepped back into the pool and
waded with Candace over to the bar, I turned back to the hot tub to see
if I could get Matt and Brooke anything. It turned out that Matt
already had pretty much what he needed: He had Brooke's top off and was
kissing her nipples...and she had her hand down his pants.
I readjusted my swim trunks,
which were doing a lousy job of concealing my interest in the
Candace and I sat at the bar
and talked. The thought of getting with a college girl excited me, and
I told her I'd love to do just that. But, I told her, I loved my
girlfriend and wouldn't cheat on her. She was fine with it and said she
liked just hanging out with me. She had just started her sophomore year
in college and had broken up with her boyfriend the previous spring. It
shocked her when I admitted to her that Matt and I were still in high
school, but I could tell she was into me anyway. It would have been so
But I wasn't going to fuck up.
So Candace and I talked into the night, easy, casual, and chaste.
Around midnight I said goodbye, kissed her on the cheek, and went back
to the condo.
I was watching TV and drinking
a beer when Matt came dragging in around 1 a.m. I nodded at him as he
came over to the couch and sat down next to me. From the look in his
eyes and the grin on his face I knew he had a story to tell.
I said, "Well?"
He started chuckling and said,
"Shit, Andy, she jerked me off in the water!"
"Jesus, Price," I said,
wrinkling my nose in disgust. "Are you tellin' me you fuckin'
discharged your weapon in the hot tub? Gross, man."
Matt was indignant. "Hey, tell
it to her...she's the one who started pumpin' my dick."
"Yeah, and I'll bet you were
beggin' her to stop the whole time."
"You know it," he said, his
face a study in sincerity.
I burst out laughing, and
before long we were both practically rolling on the floor at the
thought of some poor schmuck having to get the cum out of that hot tub.
It never occurred to us that they'd probably just drain it.
We stayed up a while and
watched some TV. Then we went out on the back balcony. There were
plenty of stars out, but no people, so we smoked a joint and sat around
half-baked, talking and enjoying the night. We went back inside after a
while and watched some more TV. Finally we went to bed around 2
I was glad I'd had this
inspiration. I hadn't been ready to leave the beach behind for the
season, and who knew when I'd get back? My Jock Posse days were almost
over, and everything else about high school was coming to a close.
As I lay there reflecting, it
spoke up again. The voice.
ready to talk about it?
"Shut up," I said out loud.
I rolled over and went to
We got up early on
Sunday. In the morning you have the best chance of finding nice
shells washed up on the beach. We walked up and down the shoreline and
picked up a few that looked good enough to take back. We set them
on top of our beach towels. Matt had this lame idea that someday he was
going to open the only sports equipment store in the Dallas area with a
surf shop; all summer long on the Jock Posse trips he had me helping
him collect shells to use for decoration in his future enterprise.
He waded out into the surf; I
followed him. We let the waves toss us around for a couple of hours. A
little before noon, we went back to the condo, spent from the exertion.
I grilled some hamburgers for lunch and we relaxed for a couple of
hours. We watched some NFL football and played some poker; I won
fifteen dollars from him. We watched a little more TV, talked a little
more about football season.
Later that afternoon we went
out to the pool and executed ridiculous daredevil moves from the water
slide and the diving board. We entertained ourselves for about an hour
and a half; afterwards, we lay out in the sun.
I was pleased to see I'd
tanned up some. I burn easier than I tan, so I'd been pretty steady
with the sunscreen. I'd figured that as a result I'd stay pretty
white, so I was happy to see my skin darkening just a little. But
Matt's skin had bronzed up beautifully, accenting the
tight, cut lines of his musculature. And the combination of UV
rays and saltwater and chlorine had added sun-bleached accents to his
sandy brown hair.
As he lay there on his back,
napping, my mind wandered all over the place. Without really intending
to at first, I let my eyes run up and down his sleeping form, studying
I spent several minutes
staring at his incredible quarterback's arms. He was resting them at
his sides, palm sides up.
I scanned down his torso, and
The hair covering his muscular
calves caught my attention, and I admired the way his blue swim trunks
looked against his golden-brown skin.
The waistband of his trunks
rode low enough to expose a couple of inches of skin below his belly
button. A delicate trail of brown hair led to his waistband--and
beyond, I thought. I shuddered and pushed the thought away.
Years of crunches had chiseled
a set of abs that most of the jocks at school envied. His chest was
smooth and lean: sleek and defined, but not steroidal. I watched,
mesmerized, as it rose and fell. Without consciously realizing it, I
synchronized my breathing with his.
I let my eyes close, breathing
deep and slow. God, looking at him brought me such peace.
I lay down on my back next to
him to soak up a few more rays.
We'd need to leave for home
around noon on Monday, so we decided to cap things off that evening by
cooking on the beach and camping out. We set up late that afternoon.
Matt had brought some firewood along, and he drove his van down to our
site to give us a little windbreak and some shade. I had a small grill
along with plenty of charcoal. After we'd made camp, he hauled out the
grill and the firewood. I threw some newspaper down for kindling and
set the logs on top of it.
"I need some exercise after
all this drinking and sittin' on my ass," Matt said. Without another
word, he turned and took off running down the beach, and I followed.
After a two-mile jog, we took another dip in the ocean.
An hour later, we had a grill
and a campfire going.
We kept it simple. Grilled hot
dogs and chips; beer and a little weed; a campfire; music provided by
my CDs and Matt's
guitar. He'd brought his Fender Strat. He had a nifty little device he
could plug into it so it would play through an ordinary radio tuner, or
in this case, my sister's boombox.
As the sun went down, we were
feeling washed out from our day in the surf, but it was a good feeling:
mellow, relaxed. We were sitting side-by-side, watching the tide,
drinking our beer, talking casually; laughing about the encounters we’d
had over the weekend.
As my CD finished playing,
we lit a couple of joints, and Matt picked up his guitar. He
specialized in the punk bands, but I knew
he had quite a few slow tunes under his belt, for seduction purposes.
It was amazing to see how the girls responded to his music.
He started out singing and
playing some four-chord, up-tempo punk stuff. It always astounded me to
hear him sing. Who'd have thought, looking at Matt, that his singing
voice would be so pleasing? He had a warm, innocent vocal delivery, but
there was an edgy, weatherbeaten quality to it that was perfect for
rocking out, and not only that: It made the ballads sear. Pain wrapped
in velvet. It was stunning in its intensity.
I wondered why he'd never put
in with any of the musician types. We had several amateur rock bands
among the musically talented kids at school. As I listened to him, it
struck me that he could have been the front man for any of them, if
that had been his thing. He definitely had the pipes. And he was easy
on the eyes too, I mused. I let my thoughts drift, envisioning Matt
gripping a mike, all sweaty and punked out, singing his heart out while
every girl on the front row fantasized about fucking him.
I was shaken out of my
reflections by his next selection. Out of nowhere, he started in on an
old Sarah McLachlan tune he'd heard me chord around with on the piano
some months before:
your life pass you by--
for the memory.
I stared at him, listening to
him make his way through the poignant lyrics and the delicate
chords. By the light of the campfire, his tan skin had taken on a
The thought came to me again:
in less than a year, we'd go our separate ways.
A stab of grief knifed through
me, catching me totally by surprise. I tried to speak over it, but my
voice stuck in my throat. I struggled to keep my composure, but as he
sang the melancholy tune, the words hit too close to home.
I stood up--almost jumped
up--in an attempt to walk it off, get myself together a little. When
I'd gotten a safe distance from him I stood, gazing into the fire, as
he finished the song.
He put down his guitar and
looked at me with curiosity. Slowly, a wistful smile appeared. He got
up, walked slowly over to me, and placed a hand on my bare shoulder.
"We've been through it, haven't we, Phillips?"
"Yeah, Matt, we have, man," I
was able to get out. "We've been through it. Together."
"It's gonna be weird next year
not having my boy around," he said.
My throat locked up again. I
managed a "No shit," but it was almost a whisper. I stared down at the
Neither of us said anything
for what seemed like an eternity. I wanted to say--
What did I want to say?
I met his eyes with mine and
said, "I kept my promise."
"I know you did," he said
"Just like when we were nine;
just like always. 'I promise I won't let anything bad happen to you
He looked at me and nodded.
"This year's not the end of
it," I added hoarsely. "I don't care where the fuck either of us are.
Whenever; wherever. If you ever need it...I got your back."
He reached for me and pulled
me into a hug. We stood there wordlessly in the firelight, holding on
to each other. The sea breeze and the rush of the waves were the only
sounds I could hear.
I rested my head on his
shoulder. I didn't want to let him go. I could smell the sun and the
sweat and the salt on him. And I could smell his body's own natural
scent, familiar to me as my own name.
My breathing slowed and
deepened, holding him in my arms like that, just as it had earlier,
when we were lying out in the sun. But from a darker place there was an
urgency, bordering on panic, swirling around inside me. Breaking
through the calm and the peace, it shouted, you can't do this! You'll ruin everything!
You have to let go; you have to sit down; you have to get away from him!
I had a fleeting mental image
of a chain snapping, overpowered by opposing forces pulling on each
To make things even worse, my
dick was hard as a rock.
This is what it feels like
when a person falls apart, I noted absently.
In the internal chaos, my
defenses slipped. In the deep peace of communion with his body, almost
reflexively, without even being fully aware of it, I lifted my head and
kissed him, twice, on the lower part of his neck.
He took in a sharp breath, and
I felt his body stiffen. That snapped me into conscious awareness. I
shoved him away, horrified. Oh,
shit...oh, fuck. What the fuck am I doing?
I looked at him,
panic-stricken, and sputtered out, "Fuck, Matt, I'm sorry, man, I don't
But before I'd even gotten my
sentence out, he reached out to me again and pulled me into himself.
Staring into my eyes, he whispered, "It's okay." I looked into his face
and saw only reassurance. I knew my own face must be a mask of fear.
He smiled gently, ruffled my
hair with his hand, and said, "I've known for a long time."
I pulled away again, agitated.
Scared. Known what? "Matt...you know I'm not--"
"Never said you were," he
replied, cutting me off before I'd had time to get it out. "I never
said you were. But I know what I see in your eyes when you look
"Look, it's no big deal, and
it's no fuckin' surprise." He paused, and chuckled. "Well, maybe it was
a little bit of a surprise. But maybe...maybe now’s the time to
talk about it. I mean, if you want."
I couldn't talk about
anything. Even the weather would have been an embarrassing topic. Shame
rained down on me in wet, ruining sheets. I clamped my eyes shut and
was shaking my head back and forth, trying to deny this, deny
everything, press the "undo" button, make it go away and back to the
way it had been only moments before. Then slowly and deliberately, he
pulled me back to him again, until his arms were around me and I was
caught in his embrace.
I couldn't speak. I couldn't
look at him.
The inner voice I’d banished
twice before came to the foreground.
we are, right up against it this time, no? Maybe you should have talked
I looked into Matt’s eyes. My
silence wasn't helping him, and later--too much later--I understood
that he was struggling as much as I was. He sighed and tried to fill
the deafening silence.
"I don't know what you are,
and I don't care," he said. "I'm not the same as you that way, I don't
think." He frowned. "No...I'm sorry, man; that doesn't sound right. I
didn't mean it like...I mean...look Andy, I know you're not gay. We've
both...well, you know. Until Angie, you've been as bad a player as me."
He massaged my wound-up shoulder muscles as he spoke.
I flashed back to the evening
at Angie's, rubbing her shoulders and wondering what the future would
"But I know what I know," he
said. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want to kiss me again."
I was devastated. I realized
now that, unconsciously, I'd tried for so many years to hide this from
him, hide it from myself, hide it from us; now here it was spilled all
over the place.
I had been running against the wind.
So this is how it ends, I thought
He shook me. "Jesus, Andy,
help me out here! I suck at talking about deep shit like this," he
said. "I can't do this by myself."
I heard the words but the
meaning wasn't getting through. He was going to hate me now.
It was over.
He put his hands on each side
of my face and lifted my head until I was forced to look at him. I
still couldn't meet his eyes. "Goddammit! Did you hear what I said?
flip out on me. It's all good with us. It's not any new thing. I told
you, I knew it a long time ago."
He was silent for a long time.
>From the distant place my mind had gone, I nevertheless saw that he
didn't know how to continue, what to say, what to do next. But I wasn't
in any condition to help.
Finally he spoke:
"I don't...I don't mind
it. In fact, I guess...I guess I like it."
I stared at his shoulder,
dimly aware of the fact that I'd heard him speak.
What did he say?
"I love you, bud," he
continued. "You know that. There's nobody on the whole fuckin' planet
who means as much to me. You did
keep your promise. I don't think you even know how much you kept your
promise. And if you want to love me like that, I...I can. I can love
you like that, tonight. And it's okay."
He pulled me closer to him. I
tried to resist, but couldn’t; he met my resistance by pulling me
toward him even more forcefully.
I would have broken away if I
could have. I would have run
away if I could have. But at that point I didn't have the will left to
counter his insistence. Defeated, I
laid my head back on his shoulder. My arms wrapped tentatively around
his torso. We stood there silently once more, embracing in the dark.
His steady breathing, his
strong arms, his silence, calmed me. Gradually I began to make my peace
with it: he said it was okay, right?
What had changed, really?
Nothing, if I could believe
Slowly, I brought my head up
from his shoulder, and finally, with some effort, looked him in the
He smiled at me. His eyes
sparkled. What I saw in them gave me some hope that the words he said
might be true. At least for tonight.
He continued to knead my
shoulders, working to loosen the tense muscles. I closed my eyes and
let him take me with his touch. Gradually, he eased off the massage and
pulled me by the shoulders even closer to him, until my nose was
practically touching his.
"We can do this," he said. "I
know you got the balls to do this. So quit moping. It's good."
And slowly, gently, he put his
lips on mine.
I pulled back a little. I
looked into his eyes again, silent. Questioning. Are you sure?
He held my gaze steady with
his, smiling, silent. He nodded. Of
course I am. Trust me.
Encouraged, I kissed him back.
I wrapped my arms around him
and we kissed again, cautiously, a few times. He looked at me and
finally I was able to smile at him.
"That's better," he said. He
laid his head on my shoulder as I'd done with him. I caressed his hair
with my hand. Then he brought his lips to mine again, and this time he
placed his mouth, open, tightly over mine.
As I felt his tongue enter my
mouth and find mine, I instinctively thrust against him with my crotch.
Catching myself at what I had done, I pulled away a little; he just
laughed, and said, "I told you; it's okay. I don't expect you to stop
with only the kissing." He grinned at me. Practically leered.
It helped, a little. That part
seemed as good as always: his sense of humor. In response I put my
mouth on his and began French-kissing him again, even more forcefully
He was right there with me,
into it. I had to fight the sense that this was an absurd dream.
The stubble of his beard
against my face sent jolts of sensation straight to my aching dick; the
feel of his chest rising and falling against my own began to overcome
my urge to escape.
I let my hands slide lower,
down to his butt; he grinned, and I grinned back and smacked him hard
on the left cheek.
As the fear subsided, I was
able to focus more clearly on what remained:
I began kissing him on the
neck again. I was still scared, but I needed him so much, and he seemed
okay with it. I started kissing a little lower, moving toward his pecs.
I stopped, a little nervous, and looked up at him. His breathing was
getting deeper. He put his hands back on my shoulders, nodded
affirmatively at me, and pushed down gently as if to emphasize the
point. I began kissing his left nipple, circling my tongue around it;
then I moved over to his right nipple. He moaned quietly, "Oh, God,
I got down on my knees and my
mouth continued its southward journey down his torso. I had a
destination. But I wanted to spend an infinity with each part of him,
tasting him, feeling his skin on my face, breathing in his scent.
Finally I got to the little
trail near his belly button. I kissed as much of it as I saw; the rest
disappeared into his waistband.
Then I put my hands back on
his ass, pulled him in tight and kissed the fabric-covered outline of
His breathing became a little
ragged. I hesitated as I realized the line I was about to cross:
There are names for this.
Words. They're not pretty.
But he was so loving, so
tender, so willing to let me do it, I didn't care. He put his hands in
my hair, and stroked my head and the back of my neck gently. As his
breathing got a little faster, he began to thrust lightly against my
mouth. "Go ahead," he moaned softly.
My hands were shaking as I
pulled his shorts down. He stepped out of them, leaned over, and kissed
the top of my head. His cut seven-incher pointed toward the brilliant
I'd seen Matt's dick hundreds
of times before, and had even seen it hard a few times. But I'd never
had my face so close to it.
He was thick, and the head of
his dick flared out much like mine did. God, even down here, he’s a
work of art, I thought. I touched the bottom of his balls with my
fingertips. A shiver went through his body.
I wasn't completely ready. A
part of me panicked at the thought of what he would think of me
tomorrow, of what this would do to us tomorrow. Things seem different
sometimes after you've gotten off. I'd experienced that before.
But I was past the point of
being able to call it off.
I put my face up against him,
pressing my nose into his pubes, and breathed in the scent of him: the
smell of Matt, mixed with the smell of sex. His pubes tickled my nose.
I began kissing him all around his dick.
I kissed his nuts gently and
held them in my hand; they hung large and heavy in their sack. Then I
let them fall back into place and kissed his inner thighs for a long
time, alternating between his right leg and his left, and traveling the
full length of them, from his knees upward.
It occurred to me that at this
point I could still quit and nobody could call me a cocksucker.
I had to stop for a minute,
wrestling with myself.
Matt seemed to know exactly
what was going through my head; he began rubbing my back, as he said,
quietly, "It's just you and me here. That's all. You can go ahead."
Of course I trusted him, I
told myself--and I wanted him so much. I said "What the fuck," out
loud, which startled us both and made us laugh.
Slowly I began to kiss and
lick my way up the shaft of his dick. His breath was becoming even more
forceful. Hearing him, I knew what he was feeling, and it made me
happy. I wanted to give him as much intense pleasure as he could
I stood up and kissed him once
on the lips and said, "Lie down, Matt." He lay down on the beach towel
he'd spread out earlier. I got between his legs and grasped his dick.
He was leaking a good bit of
precum. It had pooled in a little bead at the top of his dickhead. I
touched the tip of his dick with my tongue and licked off the sticky
fluid. That's there because of me,
I explored the top part of his
dick with my tongue for a while, occasionally hitting spots which made
his whole body spasm a little. Finally I decided it was time to get
down to business...and, for the first time ever, put a cock in my mouth.
It was almost too much; the
thought that I was tasting Matt's intimate stuff had me far beyond
turned on. I was overcome with my love for him, and with his
willingness to let me love him. He lay on his back, breathing roughly,
moaning softly, occasionally holding my head in his hands and thrusting
his dick upwards into my mouth.
I began to give him a serious
blowjob. I'd never sucked a guy before but I instinctively knew how,
knew what felt good when girls blew me.
After a while, he asked, "What
if you lie back at little and let me do this from above you?"
I grinned and rolled onto my
Pretty soon he was over me,
fucking my face. His moans became more frequent and his thrusts
quicker, deeper. I liked that, but I wanted a more active role. I had
him sit up and spread his legs, and I positioned myself between them. I
wrapped a hand around his dick, brought my mouth down on it, and
started giving him head again. I got a good rhythm going, moving my
mouth up and down rapidly on his shaft. His breathing became panting.
My hands were resting on his
inner thighs as I worked on his cock. Finally I felt the muscles in his
legs tense up; his breathing became even more insistent, until he said,
"Fuck, Andy, you better back off now." In answer I just increased the
intensity of the action. He grimaced, grabbed my head tightly, and said
"Oh, fuck," and began pumping my mouth full of his juice.
The force of the blasts
surprised me; Matt wasn't a "dribbler."
The taste surprised me too.
I'd tasted my own cum before, and his wasn't all that different. But
all I could think of was that it came from him, that I'd gotten him to
empty himself--his lust, his love--into me. I loved it, I loved the
taste, and I loved him, and for that brief moment, existence was full
and complete, and Bob Seger could go fuck himself.
He must have squirted about
eight times; I had to swallow fast. I kept him in my mouth as he was
coming down, until he began flinching because it was getting too
We lay there silently for a
while, listening to the sea. After a few minutes, he started laughing.
"God, Andy," he said. "I never
knew it could be that good with a guy." I don't know why, but that made
me crack up too.
That was good; it felt normal.
This didn't have to become something weird between us.
He sat up and kissed me, one
last violent, impassioned French kiss; then he lay back, spent.
We laughed and joked with each
other a little bit--trying to show each other it was okay. The scene
gradually transitioned back into what it had been before things got
We opened up another couple of
beers, and sat by the light of the fire. He'd never bothered to put his
clothes back on; he just sat there naked, talking ordinary, as if
nothing had happened.
At some point the conversation
began to lag a little. Matt looked at me and said, "You never got off.
You got me off but you never got off."
I smiled and said, "I'll
"No, man, we gotta get you
off." I looked in his eyes and could tell he was serious.
"Well, okay, if you're
He smiled. "Okay, then. Take
your clothes off," he said.
That was enough to get me hard
again. I got naked and sat down by him, figuring he was gonna jerk me
off or, if I were lucky, suck my dick. Instead he smoothed out his
towel and lay down on his back, his hands resting behind his head.
I looked at him,
uncomprehending as I sat there beside his chest. I wasn't sure what to
do next. Did he want me to sit on his chest and bring my dick to his
"We never talk about it much,"
he said after a moment of silence.
He'd lost me. "Talk
"I never say 'thanks' but you
know I always feel it."
I was still puzzled. "Thanks
for what, Matt? You're my best bud and it's been awesome to have
someone like you."
He sat up. "I'm talkin'
about what you said earlier. You never broke your promise. Ever.
You remember that night when we were little?"
I smiled at him. "No way
could I forget."
"I thought about what you said
for months," he said. "It was the first time since...since Dad left,
that I felt like maybe it would be okay."
"It wasn't anything," I said,
dismissing him. "You were my friend; we were just kids. I talked big,
but there wasn't anything special to it."
"That's bullshit," he
said. "It must have meant something to you or you wouldn't have
said it. You wouldn't have mentioned it tonight either. You
wouldn't even have remembered it."
"You meant something to me," I said
quietly. "The thing about the promise...that was just my scared way of
trying to tell you how much I cared."
"You kept me studying," he
continued. "You helped me understand. You made me laugh. You kept the
bad shit from happening."
I said, "You did all those
things for me too."
I hardly had a chance to get
those words out before he shook his head and said, "No. You'd have done
fine without me. I wouldn't have done fine without you."
"You're not stupid, I replied.
"I was just the guy who was there. Somebody else could have done it.
You just needed a little encouragement."
"It wasn't just the studying,"
he said, "and you know that."
He stared out toward the sea.
Looking back at me, he said in a quiet voice, "I
never talked much about it. But it hurt. It hurt all the time. Kenny.
And my old man."
He paused for a long time,
never breaking eye contact with me.
He took a deep breath and went
on. "I never told you this: My mom
has a handgun in a little safe under her bed. Back in junior
high...well, sometimes I would take it out...I wondered if...God, it
just hurt so bad to be alive sometimes; I didn't know if I could
keep..." His voice trailed off as he turned his gaze back toward the
My heart started pounding.
"Look, here's what I...here's
saying," he stammered, staring into the waves. "I'm saying you kept me
safe. Because you made
me laugh. You let me cry sometimes even. You never made me talk about
it. You let me just hang out and not say a word. Just being you, you
helped me believe it would get better..."
He turned back to look at me.
A tear ran down his face. "So I didn't do that thing."
I stared into his eyes, overwhelmed, as he continued. "And it got
better. Because of you."
He was crying a little, and
trying to hide it. I thought back on the times when he hurt and I tried
to make him laugh. I thought about the diptych with the two photos of
us, as children and as teenagers, arms around each other; the younger
duo faintly marked--haunted and wounded; the older two, drawing
undisguised wholeness from each other, at least for the moment.
"It's like I said," he
continued, wiping his eyes with a bare hand. "I've sort of thought for
a long time that you wanted this; what we did tonight. And more. I
think I'm not exactly that way, whatever it is, but I do love you."
Hearing him say that filled me
with a quiet joy. But I had no idea where he was going with all this.
"You made me feel so good
tonight. It was incredible. I had no idea it could be that good with
you. I never thought about doing that. No, that's not true. I did think
about it because...well, because I knew you wanted it. But I was never
sure if I could, or even if you'd let yourself. I mean, you're my best
friend, but...well, that doesn't usually come with being 'best
"But when you kissed me
tonight...God, it surprised me," he laughed. "Made me jump. But that's
when I realized I could. Because I could feel you loving me. And being
loved by you is one of the best things in my life.
"I know it was good for you
too," he said. "And we just left you hangin' there. I want to make you
feel the love too."
He touched my shoulder. "Ten
freakin’ years we've been best friends. By now it's like you're inside
me, always with me. I can take it one step further...Come inside me
tonight. Make love to me. I can do this and I want to do it, for you."
I was so astounded it wasn't
fully registering with me.
When I finally was able to
open my mouth, I said, "Matt...are you saying you want me to fuck you?"
He smiled a weak smile and
said quietly, "Damn, do you have to be so fuckin' crass about it?"
I laughed a little, nervously.
"But yeah, if you have to put
it that way," he said, "You can fuck me."
Another long pause intruded. I
sat there, considering, not saying anything.
"Why would you do that?" I
finally managed to get out.
"Because you want it," he said.
The answer made me unhappy. "I
never said anything like that. I never said I wanted it. Loving you: I
can't deny that. I never denied it. You've been my best friend forever.
"But fucking: No way. I'd
never ask. You can call me a cocksucker now, I guess, but I never said
I wanted to fuck you. What makes you think you know I want to fuck you?"
He looked straight through me.
"Are you denying it?"
I was silent.
He nodded as if I’d answered
"I owe you," he said quietly.
"You don't owe me anything," I
said. "I'm not somebody you have to throw a bone to." I winced as I saw
him smile at the choice of words. "You know what the fuck I mean."
"I know what I know," he said.
"I told you I could do this. Why won't you let me do this for you?
Anyway," he grinned, "I've had a couple of girls play with my hole when
we were going at it; it feels pretty damn good. And you know we both
done girls up the backside. If they can take it, why not me?"
I smiled a little. He was right; we'd both pushed the envelope
with some of the wilder girls we'd dated. "I know you know how to
get me ready," he said. "Just let me give you something you want
tonight, Andy. I do owe you."
I looked at him and said,
"Matt...I tried so hard not to let you know how I felt. I tried so hard
not to fuckin' let myself
know. I guess I didn't really know until tonight."
"You’re pretty stupid then,"
he said, smiling.
My head was spinning too much
to get a coherent reply out. "I guess...I mean, what the fuck, I
know we probably shouldn't...but I think it would be...you just mean so
much to me...And for you to do this..."
Then something else hit me.
"I don't know if you wanna be
takin' me up the ass. People die from that shit these days. I mean, I
figure I'm safe, but just as a general principle..."
He interrupted: "Dude...you're
forgetting. We're here with the Mattmobile."
I had forgotten; Matt's van
was a love shack on wheels. And over the past couple of weeks,
sometimes Angie and I had "borrowed" his van, so between him and me, we
kept his glove compartment well-supplied with condoms and lube.
That settled it. I wanted him
with every neuron of my body. But even if I hadn't, I felt that
now if I didn't follow through I'd make him feel ashamed for having
offered. "Okay, you're on; your ass is mine," I laughed nervously.
I walked over to the
van. I went to the front seat and grabbed a condom and some lube
from the glove compartment.
Walking back over to the
campfire, I tore open the package and began unrolling the latex over my
cock. Matt was sitting up watching, and I could tell from his face that
the implications of this, especially the physical ones, were dawning on
I looked at him and said, "We
don't have to do this."
"Fuck that," he said. "Bring
it. I can take what you got."
I knelt beside him and kissed
him on the cheek. "I'll
slow and easy."
"Okay," he said, and lay back
down on the beach towel.
I positioned myself over him
and he spread his legs and bent his knees. I squeezed some lube on my
fingers and rubbed some around on his asshole...and slowly began to
insert my index finger. He clamped down, but then relaxed. I worked my
finger up and down, then said, "I'm going one more finger, okay?" He
closed his eyes and nodded his head. I slowly began to work my index
and middle fingers into him.
This time he didn't tighten up
"One more finger and that
should do it," I said. He nodded again. This time I put my index,
middle, and ring finger together tightly, lubed them up heavily, and
slowly began to push them in. He took in several
sharp breaths, and his face tightened in a mask of concentration.
Gradually, he relaxed, and I felt tense muscles ease up all over. He
seemed to be going with it.
For my part, I was amazed, and
turned on, at how soft he felt inside.
"Does it hurt?" I asked,
pulling my fingers out of him.
"No...it's fine. Intense, is
all. I'm ready. Just go slow."
I lubed up my condom-covered
cock. I positioned myself over him, holding myself up by my knees and
my left hand, and with my right, I guided my cock to his waiting hole.
I pushed slowly, and felt the head of my cock invade him. He breathed
in sharply and grimaced a little, but he put his hands on my back and
pulled me closer to him. Once I got the head of my cock into him,
things seemed to go easier. Matt always had exquisite control of his
muscles. I could see him working on keeping those particular muscles
relaxed. He breathed deep and slow, and as I eased my way slowly into
him, I saw his grimace gradually relax into a smile, until finally he'd
taken me to the hilt.
"I'm all the way in," I said.
"Are you okay?"
"Better than okay. Go ahead,"
And so I did. I began slowly
thrusting in and out of him. I put my lips on his; he opened his mouth
and we tongue-kissed violently.
Occasionally he'd tighten up
and gasp. I'd slow down to a stop while he recovered his control and
relaxed his muscles. Before too long he'd figured out the mechanics
perfectly. As my dick stroked his insides, and as I brought
my face to his neck and chest to kiss him, the scent of his body and of
our sex intensified my lust.
The remaining shred of thought
upon which I could focus marveled at this fact: here I was, fucking my
best bud in the whole world, where 24 hours ago I would have given
every penny I had to hide those desires from the both of us.
But in spite of all that, it
I thought about that calm,
insistent voice and spoke back to it:
love with him, and I’m making love to him, and it’s okay. Is that what
you wanted me to face?
Yes, the voice replied. Thank you.
As I looked deep into Matt’s
eyes between kisses, I ran it past my brain again, just for the sake of
making sure I believed it: I was in love with Matt, and I was making
love to him.
And it's okay.
No. It wasn't "okay." It was a
dream beyond all hope, come true.
Suddenly, I thought of Angie.
I'd cheated on her.
No. It's not the same thing, the
voice spoke up.
I agreed. I love her. This doesn't change that.
Whether I was right about all
that or not, I'd deal with it later. Without a trace of guilt, I pushed
Angie to the back of my consciousness and focused on the boy I was
making love to.
As the intensity of our
lovemaking increased, the background scenery and sounds disappeared,
and for the moment, just as Angie had when I was making love to her,
Matt became my entire universe. At once both lost in him and at home in
him, I blurted out, "I love you so much, Matt."
He held me tighter. "I know. I
love you too, Andy."
I put my mouth on his, and
while I fucked his ass, he fucked my mouth with his tongue, breathing
through his nose, fast and deep. After a while I lifted my mouth from
his and stared into his eyes as my dick moved up and down inside him.
As his eyes stared back into mine, he said, "It's okay. It's good. You
feel good in me; I can...I can feel how much you love me."
It was over much too soon. I
couldn't hold out. It was too intense. I thrust deep inside him, and
growled "Fuck!" He began kissing me fiercely on my lips, my face, my
neck, as my dick, buried deep in his guts, pumped its load into the
condom. After I was spent I started to pull out, but he said "Wait,"
and he held me inside. "I wanna finish with you in me."
He began working himself, and
pretty soon he tensed up and cried out. He fired off and his cum hit me
in the chest four or five times. His orgasm caused the muscles of his
ass to grip my dick, and that made me hard again. When he'd finished, I
pulled out, pulled the condom off, and jerked myself off to one final
orgasm. My jizz shot onto his neck; a couple of drops hit his chin. He
scooped them up onto his finger and stuck it into his mouth, his eyes
afire with mischief. I laughed long and hard at his goofy expression,
then collapsed on top of him, and we kissed and held each other until
we fell asleep outside the tent, under the stars.
We woke up around sunrise the
next morning, and somewhat self-consciously we disentangled ourselves
and put our trunks back on. We broke camp, loaded the stuff into the
van, and went back to straighten up the condo. During the early part of
the morning we worked in silence. The morning's light had brought
reality, and with it, uncertainty. Ambivalence. Fear, even.
I kept thinking about how he'd told me he'd known I loved him like that
for years, and I was beginning to feel uncomfortable, wondering what he
was thinking of me now.
We were cleaning up the
kitchen in silence. I couldn't stand it anymore. When he walked over to
empty the trash compactor, as he reached for the handle, I grabbed his
He looked up at me
questioningly and I said, "Matt--I don't know what to--"
He broke in and said,
"Andy...it's cool. We're cool. I'm not sorry, and I'm not ashamed, and
I'm not embarrassed. It's just fine.
"This was our secret weekend,
bro," he added. "Back in the real world it won't change anything, and
it won't make me feel weird. It won't make any difference at all. Not
after all these years. If you're okay with it, I mean." And to
emphasize the point, he grabbed my hand and squeezed it hard in our
patented secret-Matt-and-Andy handshake we'd invented in junior high.
Then he slapped my shoulder with his other hand.
There was so much I wanted to
say; there was so much more I needed
to say. At the time, I wasn't even aware of most of it. But he needed
to hear me say it was all good. So I simply said, "I got your back,
Matt. Always. Count on it."
The ride back to Dallas was
subdued, but peaceful. Each of us was caught up in his own thoughts and
feelings about the weekend. When we got into town, he took me home and
helped me get my stuff back into the house. I walked him back to his
van. He opened his door, then, pausing for a minute, turned back to me.
"It was incredible," he said.
I shrugged. "I'm sorry if--"
And, as if to illustrate his
words, he put his arms around me and we hugged there in my driveway. I
was struck by the scent of his body, intimately familiar and deeply
comforting, and as it had at the coast, a deep peace washed over me
Copyright 2005 by Adam
Thanks for reading. I always enjoy getting emails about Cross-Currents, and I'd love
to hear from you, especially now that the story has finally taken a
"gay" turn. You can reach me at firstname.lastname@example.org and
I'll do my best to write you back.