I have always tried to be like the kind of boy I've wanted to have for a boyfriend: sort of the all-American boy next door type. Blondish hair and blue eyes. I try to keep fit and stay clean. If I get lucky, I want to smell good where it counts, if you know what I mean. Trouble is, everybody just assumes I'm straight, cuz of the way I come across. I write telephony applications for an outfit you've never heard of. At my level, it's a young man's game, and I pretty much keep to myself and deliver the goods.

Anyway, when I met Jim, I was immediately attracted to him and determined that we wouldn't fall into the trap of becoming just regular friends. I've fallen painfully in love with a couple of guys who turned out to be so straight that the very concept of attraction to another guy was beyond their emotional grasp.

So, when Jim started working at the same place and made me crazed with wanting him, I invited him over, intending to come out to him that first weekend. He came over to my place, ostensibly for a couple of drinks and some gaming. I had picked up some beer, just in case, but as it turns out, we ended up both preferring wine. Plus, he showed up with Chinese take-out.

Anyway, somewhere along the line, I ended up leaning over his shoulder to look at something on screen and I picked up the scent of him, it was his hair and the air rising up out of his tee shirt from the heat of his body. When it hit me, I thought my eyes were going to roll backwards with the wave of longing for him.

Maybe I should explain my dilemma. I'm not just a mindless horndog. I guess if I were and I struck out, it would be different. But I've wanted a boyfriend so bad. A guy to love and to cherish in addition to the physical stuff. A boyfriend to treasure and pleasure. I want to fall in love with his heart, his mind and his body. And that's not so common. So I've always tried to be easy to get along with, to be a good friend. And, to the extent that I've had a chance to get any experience, to be a good lover.

So Jim's there and his subtle scent does something to my insides and I end up sort of leaning into him for a second. And I must have made some kind of a sound.

"So, is there something you want to tell me?" he asked.

I felt a bolt of horror and fear. But I remembered the deal I'd made with myself and forced out the words, "Yeah, umm, well, I... I'm... really attracted to you."

"Oh, good. I was afraid you were going to tell me you farted and then slug me on the arm."

"I never fart and I never lie," I said gravely, "but I would like to kiss you," I finished in a whisper, his cool ear against my cheek.

"Good," he said, turning his face to me, "good," as he drew me down to his lips for the first tender contact. His lips were so soft, and his breath was sweet, as was the taste of him. He stood to face me, running his hands up inside my shirt to brush my chest and my sides and come to rest on my back, one high and one low.

I cupped his face and stole another sweet kiss, hearing myself make a tiny whimper. This seemed to activate some male instinct in him and he took over, kissing me more deeply and reaching to cup and hold my package with an "Ummm" of approval that I unconsciously matched.

"You are beautiful," he said, "and I want to make love to you." I just melted into him and he laid me down on the couch and undid my pants, pulling them down till he could get my boxer briefs off and take me into his mouth. I was already hard, but nothing like what I soon became.

"Take off your pants, I want you." Out came the perfect cut penis, with an indescribably beautiful full head. I felt like I was in church, my heart clean and pure, as I opened my mouth to receive this holy thing into me. I gave all my heart to the taking of him into me, feeling the deep satisfaction of it. His dick was a key that exactly fit my soul, that set my heart free to soar with joy from the sucking of him.

He swivelled into a 69, taking me sweetly between his lips, across his tongue, down his throat. His cool balls lay tickle-y over my nose and eyes. I reached between his thighs, to hold them apart, the better to feel his sweet sack, to smell his fragrance, to revel in the reality of having this lovely gift to hold and smell and taste. The having of what I'd craved for so long, the sweetest part of a lovely sweet smart cute guy, the type of guy you could surrender your heart to, surrender your body to, the type of guy you abandon yourself to pleasuring. The type of guy who almost immediately made me yield up my joy between his willing lips, my delight in him tearing at me as I gladly received his ample tribute between mine.

The ice broken, we curled up together, kissing cum-breath trembly each other's soft lips. Then we had Chinese.

And that's how I met your Daddy. But then, you'll never read this.