Date: Wed, 05 Jul 2006 12:06:49 -0700
From: Joseph Farrin <bigblaise@hotmail.com>
Subject: RUNAWAY BOY RUNAWAY LOVE

Salina, Kansas is not quite but almost in the middle of the
state and it's a major junction on the Union Pacific
Railroad.  My dad is a locomotive engineer for the
railroad and is home about half the time.  His name is
Alex and my mom's name is Charlotte; mine is Michael,
I'm eleven and in the sixth grade at a junior high school
five blocks from the house.

The house is a small, Cape Cod style house with a hall in
the center, two bedrooms and all the daytime activity
rooms downstairs and two bedrooms upstairs.  The front
has two dormer windows.  It's a nice little house.

Around the middle of July my dad's sister, Aunt Millie
and her adopted son Brandon stopped to visit us on their
way home to Sioux Falls, South Dakota from Oklahoma
City where they'd been visiting some of her husband's
relatives.  Her husband had died two years ago and his
funeral was the last time I'd seen Brandon.  Now he was
twenty and ready to start his junior year in college.  Boy
had he changed!

The nicest way I can think of to tell you about my mom
is to say she is not exactly an open-minded person.  In
that way she takes after her mother, whom I hate to visit
and listen to the two of them bitch about every person
they've ever known – dead or alive.

Luckily my dad compensates for her.  He has a deep
voice, speaks softly and never has a bad word to say
about anyone.

  Although she doesn't say so in front of my dad, she
doesn't, and never has, liked either Millie or Brandon.
She thinks Millie dresses too flashy for her age, drinks
too much and isn't too bright.  She calls Brandon a queer
and speculates about his ethic background because he has
black hair, brown eyes and a dark complexion.  Actually,
he is good-looking – very good-looking. Besides what
I've already told you, he's average height, has a big, easy
smile and flawless teeth.  Maybe he is of Italian or
Hispanic decent, but so what!  He's a swell guy.

As for me, I'm tall for my age, pale skinned that burns in
the summer unless I really grease myself up with suntan
lotion. I have brown hair, blue eyes and in addition to
being super tall, I'm super skinny. My dick is about
average for an eleven year old - I guess. I don't really
have any way of knowing.

Mom wouldn't let Brandon smoke in the house, so every
once in a while he was out the back door to sit on the
patio and I'd tag along with him.  He asked me a lot of
questions to keep the conversation going – where was my
school, what were my favorite subjects, did I have a
hobby, who were my best friends, that kind of stuff. I
liked him a lot.  He was really cool and I was glad he and
Aunt Millie had come to visit us.

That first night, after supper, Brandon asked me if I
wanted to go to a movie.  I said. "Sure!"  My mom said,
"No!"  My dad and Aunt Millie said, "Oh, let him go,
Charlotte." And my dad opened his billfold and gave
Brandon some money.

It was a weekday and the movie had been playing since
last Friday so the theater wasn't crowded, Brandon said it
gave him a headache to sit up close and when we entered,
he gestured for me to sit in the back row, so I ended up
sitting in the extreme back corner of the theater with
Brandon next to me.  By the time the movie started we
were still the only ones in the entire back row.  In fact
there were only four or five people in the back three
rows.

After the coming attractions had played out and we were
well into the main feature, Brandon spread his legs apart
and his right leg touched mine. He left it there; I started
to move mine but decided against it.  As a matter of fact I
liked his touching me, even if it did distract me from
paying attention to the movie.  I wondered if it was a
sexual thing.  I didn't know but hoped it was.  A little
later on, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, some
movement on his lap.  I looked and he had his dick out of
his pants and was playing with himself.  From then on, I
kept sneaking looks at it.  I couldn't help it. It was the
first time I'd seen a man's cock and it looked so big.
More than that, though, I was getting all excited.

Brandon caught me looking (I think that's was his
intention all along), took my hand and wrapped my
fingers around it, looked at me, smiled, reached over,
unzipped my fly and pulled out my erection, looked me
in the eyes and whispered, "Nice!"

We continued feeling each other up, neither paying any
attention to the movie and, a few minutes later, Brandon
leaned over and whispered to me again, "Let's get out of
here."

He asked me where a convenience store was, bought a
six-pack and drove ten miles out of town until he found a
country road where we could stop.  I was afraid to drink a
beer, fearing my mom would smell it on my breath, but
Brandon said there were some snacks in the car and he'd
also bought a can of Coca Cola, so not to worry.  We
both took our cocks out but this time his was just
halfway hard and I saw he wasn't circumcised; the first
one I'd ever seen.  He told me his foreskin was loose, just
skin it back and it would hook behind the head.  I did and
we both hardened right away.

We talked as we fooled around; talked about how hot we
both thought cocks were and the times we'd seen each
other before.  True or not, Brandon said he'd always
wanted to play around with mine because he thought I
was "cute".  I admitted to him that I'd had the same
feelings.  Brandon wasn't too comfortable with the
country road, so after we'd had a beer, he said maybe we
should just jack each other off in case a car comes
down the road.  Oh shit, I tell you I really liked that.  His
dick got so big and hard and even the moonlight coming
in the car was enough to see his dickhead was swollen
and as shiny as glass.  Suddenly he said, "I'm about to
shoot, put your hand over the end of it and catch it."  I
did and felt his warm cum spilling out into my hand as he
groaned and hollered, "Yeah, that's it Mike, don't stop!
Don't stop!"  I'd had my dry climax way before Brandon
shot off.  God but he had me excited.  While he was
putting his away, he looked over and said, "Thanks,
Mike, I really needed that."

Before we turned around to go back, he put the beer
carton with the remaining beer in the trunk, except for
one which he drank, tossing the can out the window
before we reached the paved road, saying beer cans in the
passenger area weren't a good thing to have if a cop
stopped you.  All I could think of on the way home was
that there were two bedrooms on the first floor and two
upstairs, but one of the upstairs ones was off limits to
everyone as it was dad's study and hobby room, which
meant Brandon would be sleeping with me unless my
mom had fixed him a bed on the couch.  (That would be
just like her.)  The house was dark inside when we got
home except for a small lamp on the hall table.  We went
upstairs and I carried his laptop while he took his
luggage.  The first thing he did was whisper to me, "Is
there anyone sleeping in that room across the hall?"  I
replied, "No.  My dad uses it for an office and hobby
room.  We're the only ones upstairs."

After using the bathroom and undressing together,
I can tell you something else about him.  He's hard
bodied.  I remarked on it and he told me that he and his
roommate at college ran five miles before breakfast but
he gave it up during the summer because it was too hot to
be enjoyable.

Then, Brandon said, "Michael, you were asking me all
kinds of questions about cocks and how big they get, so
I'll show you some pics on my laptop.  Holy shit, he had
some pictures of some hung guys dicks, some of which he
said were showing altered cocks, but one of a kid that
looked to be around my age had a really long, thin one
that a man was playing with and Brandon said he knew it
was real, he'd seen the kid in a porno movie in a booth at
an adult bookstore.  That brought up more questions from
me about what all was in a dirty bookstore.  He told me
about the magazines for sale, about how guys go into
booths and jack off looking at movies and how there are
holes between the booths that guys stick their cocks
through to get sucked off.  I was so dumb I didn't know
what sucked off meant but I was to find out tomorrow.

Brandon said, "Good night, Michael."  Then he slung an
arm over me and went right to sleep. He was snuggled up
so close and his body felt sweaty.  I just couldn't get off.
It was too hot and humid.  Although the room had one
dormer window in front there were a lot of windows on
the back; from outside the house looked like it was two
stores in the rear.   Then, a boy having sex for the first
time with a man was just too heady an experience to
permit going home and going right to sleep, especially
when you were naked together in bed with the man
snuggled up to your back with his arm around you.  I
didn't know it then, but that first time was something I'd
never forget and I still get hard every time I think of it.

Because Brandon and I were late getting home or
because Aunt Millie was visiting, my mom was being
unusually considerate, she didn't holler up the stairs at
eight o'clock, but I woke at my regular time anyway,
despite the fact that I'd spent half the night copping feels
of Brandon's cock.  The day hadn't heated up yet and my
room was more comfortable than it had been last night.
Brandon was still sound asleep so I scooted down in the
bed so my face was even with his crotch and just looked
at him.  I hadn't noticed last night in the dark but he was
real hairy down there, not only his pubes but his balls
were covered with hair, too.  His soft cock was asleep in
all those black hairs with its foreskin all wrinkled up for
at least a half-inch in front of his cockhead, still visible in
outline beneath his foreskin.

There was no way I could resist slowly reaching over and
with my thumb and forefinger, lifting up his flaccid cock
and slowly sliding back his foreskin.  It didn't want to
stay, what with his being completely soft, so I held it
back because I wanted to have a long look at his
cockhead.  I was amazed at how big his piss slit was.  I
wanted to touch it with the tip of my tongue but was
afraid to in case I woke him up.

To tell you the truth, I really didn't know what to think of
Brandon and having had sex with him.  I was confused. I
liked him a lot and it really excited me to even look at his
big cock let alone play with it.  I guess the confusion was
because I didn't think a boy could be in love with a man
let alone that a man could possibly be in love with an
eleven-year-old boy.

By the time we got up everyone else had eaten breakfast,
so Brandon and I ate alone. It was so cool just looking at
him knowing what he had in his pants - that I'd jacked it
off and played with it while he was sleeping, knowing he
wouldn't tell.  It was the best secret I'd ever had.

Later in the day my dad announced that he'd been called
for a freight run to Denver.  Millie said she was glad she
got to see him and she had to be getting home now, too.
(I don't think she cherished the thought of staying with
just my mom in the house and, believe me, I could
sympathize with her.)

Brandon, God Bless him, pipes up and asks if I could
come home with them for a week or two. Aunt Mille
said, "That's a great idea!"  "My mom said, "No!"  My
dad said, "Why not, Charlotte?  You've been wanting to
visit your parents and you know Michael makes them
nervous, so why not take the chance to go spend a couple
of weeks with them alone?"

Mom hesitated and said, "Well."  My dad said, "Go pack
some clothes, Michael."  Boy was I glad to be getting out
of there because I could tell by her face that my mom
was going to explode the minute we were out the door.
So there I was on the way to Sioux Falls with Aunt
Millie, the aunt who drinks too much and dresses too
flashy for her age in the back seat and me sitting in the
front with Brandon, my adopted cousin, the queer with
the cock that I was in love with, the cock I'd jacked off
last night and caught its warm cum in my hand, the cock
I'd stared at and played with for a half-hour this morning,
the cock I was looking at right now trying to see if it was
making a visible bulge in Brandon's pants.  It was and
just looking at the bulge made mine get hard.

We weren't even to Nebraska when Aunt Mille leaned
forward to announce she had a pillow back there and was
going to take a nap because she hadn't slept well last
night. Brandon began looking at me and checking the
back seat in his rear-view mirror, then unzipped his pants
and put his finger in his mouth and pushed it in and out. I
got the message.  His cock was so hard that there was no
foreskin to pull back.  He looked circumcised and his
dickhead was bigger even than last night.  I gave him his
first blowjob of the day and the first ever for me, while
going 60 miles an hour on the four lane US-81 and
despite a scare.  Aunt Millie woke for a few seconds and
asked, "Where's Michael?"  Brandon made a quick reply,
"He's napping, too.  He's resting his head on my lap.  Go
back to sleep, I'll call you when we stop."  That was a
close one!

	Later on, in a small, Nebraska town north of
Interstate 80, we stopped at a service station, Brandon
and I went to the men's room together, he used the urinal
so I sat on the toilet. When we were both finished, he
dropped his pants and he was hard!  I knew what he
wanted; he leaned over and braced himself on the wall
behind me with one hand and with the other guided his
erection into my mouth.  Blowjob No. 2.  For a week I
kept count but finally gave up.

	When we pulled up onto Aunt Millie's driveway,
in Sioux Falls, I remembered the house.  It was bigger
than ours, inside the furniture was nicer and it was air-
conditioned.  As time went on I observed that Aunt
Millie had two highballs before dinner and that was the
extent of her drinking.  As for the way she dressed, it
wasn't flashy but it was in expensive, good taste.  I
slowly began to realize my mom didn't dislike her as
much as she was jealous of her and couldn't disguise it.

	That first night in Brandon's room, I asked him
what queer meant.  He said it was a derogatory word for
gay.  "Do you know what gay means?"  I told him I did
but didn't realize queer and gay meant the same thing
and asked him if it was bad.  He said it depended on what
pew you sat in on Sundays.  The Episcopal Church even
had a few gay ministers.  The Catholic Church and most
others condemned it.  The Methodists straddled the fence
and most people thought it was wrong.  There wasn't
much in the Bible about it, but some evangelical
preachers interpreted things otherwise.  As for himself,
he'd always found it interesting that Jesus chose a young
disciple, James, about his own age, to spend his last night
with.

"Why all the questions, Mike."

"I think I'm gay."

"Why?"

"Because I love you."

He reached out and wrapped his arms around me, pulled
me to his chest and we were silent for a long time until he
began running his fingers through my hair and caressing
my cheek and then bent down and kissed me open
mouthed.

"I don't wish being anything on anyone, but I'm glad you
love me. I love you, too. More than you'll ever know,
more than I can express in words, but I'll show you with
deeds."

I began to cry, he sat down and pulled me down to his lap
and wrapped his arms around me again.  "Don't cry
Michael.  We'll work things out somehow, just give me a
little time and one by one I'll find some answers.  If you
think it's tough going now wait until we're both back in
school and have months to wait before we can even see
each other again.  Michael, I guess you realize I'm gay;
I'm even a special kind of gay – I like boys."

One of the first answers he came up with was that he
showed me how to use his desktop and told me when he
took me home, he'd install it in my room so we could
stay in touch every day.  I asked if he didn't need it.  He
replied his new laptop had replaced it because he didn't
want to keep hauling the desktop back and forth to
college.

Before we'd come to bed that first night, Aunt Millie
asked him to turn the air-conditioning off.  She couldn't
sleep with it on.  It bothered her sinuses.  So Brandon
threw the windows open and we slept together, naked.
He said we were both tired and didn't think we should do
anything.  I asked him if I woke up during the night if I
could at least feel it.  He said, "You can do anything you
want and I promise we'll do something before we go to
breakfast in the morning."   It had to bother him, but he
didn't complain.  I wrapped my hand around his cock and
kept it there until I went to sleep.  I knew now I really did
love Brandon and that boys and men could fall in love
with each other.

It was a great vacation.  We went to a public swimming
pool at least three times every week.  Some days there
was a hunk lifeguard that was showing an enormous
bulge in his swim trunks.  I commented on it and
Brandon laughed.  "Let's go over, I know him, his name
is Derek."  As we approached where he was sitting,
Derek saw Brandon and called out, "Hi Bran Flakes!
After Brandon introduced us, saying I was his cousin
from Kansas, he said, "Derek, Mike thinks you have a
big cock."  Derek laughed and I turned ten shades of red.
Derek asked Brandon, "Is he a member of the
fraternity?"  Brandon replied, "A new pledge."

"Has he been initiated yet?"

"Yes, by me, so don't get any ideas. Just show him your
plastic guard instead."

"Stand in front of me and I'll take it out."  He reached in
his swimsuit and took out what he explained was a "cup"
and that baseball and football players wore them in case
they got hit or kicked in the groin.

Bandon said, "Swimmer don't need them but Derek
wears it to attract the boys.

I said I bet it worked.

Brandon said, "Too well.  It attracts as many cunts as it
does boys."

Derek said it sure does he didn't let girls see the real
thing.  Boys were more fun.

Brandon told him that maybe he should stick a dildo in
his suit instead.

"No thanks, this works quite well."

After we left, I asked Brandon what a dildo was.
He explained not only what it was but what it was used
for as well.

Another time he took me to a department store and
bought some new clothes for when he went back to
college.  He asked my opinion on everything before he
made a final decision.  He said he only needed one dress
suit and he tried on half a dozen before he found one we
agreed on.

Then, after I learned about all I was going to on the
computer, he gave me his e-mail address and fixed me up
with two e-mail addresses, one to use as I wanted and
one exclusively for correspondence between the two of
us.  Boy did we wear that address out.  He had me
practice sending mail to his laptop and he sending mail to
my new address.  It was instantaneous – I'd click on
"send" and the message would show up on his laptop
screen.

Next he got me into a chat room and showed me how to
go private.  Because of his studies we limited ourselves
to Friday nights for that site.

Then he gave me a box of floppy disks and some
hard disks, showed me how to put them in, copy to them
and then how to attach a pic to an e-mail as well as how
to download and save one he'd send to me.

I guess it goes without saying that the highlight of t	he
summer was the sex.  I didn't think it could get any better
than it was the   first time, but I was wrong.  It just kept
getting better and better.  Near the end of the two weeks,
I told Brandon I hoped it was as good for him as it was
for me.  He replied, "Don't be silly. We've managed so
much in the time you've been here that we know each
other's special spots and what to do to them.  You like
the same foreplay as I do and you can make me shoot off
like nobody ever has before.  I think we are both cock
crazy.  I'll tell you why it's been so good.  It's been a hell
of a lot more than just sex; it's been sex with love, Mike,
and am I ever going to miss you, miss you sucking me
off every night before we go to sleep, waking up during
the night with you holding it, or feeling around trying to
find it. My cock's going to miss you as much as I do.
You're the first lover it's ever had."

"I do love it and I love you, too."

"And I love you and you'll never know how happy I am
that we found each other."

One morning during breakfast my dad called, said he was
just leaving for work but wanted to get in touch.  My
mom wasn't home yet and if it wasn't inconvenient for
Millie could I just stay until she got home and called.

It was fine with all of us. Then a few nights later Brandon
sneaked a six-pack into the room and got me drunk
before he said he wanted to do something we'd never
done before.  I asked him what and he said he wanted to
fuck me.

"Won't that hurt?"

"I'm afraid it will.  I've never fucked anyone nor have I
ever been fucked but I've heard it hurts."

"I thought boys only fuck girls."

"Tonight you're going to be my girl."

With that said he put me on my back and kissed me open
mouth and proceeded to kiss every inch on my body. He
even raised my legs, held them up and kissed my bottom.
I couldn't believe how big we both got.

He opened a bottle labeled "Lube", smeared it all over
his cock and on his finger and stuck his finger up my
hole explaining that it was supposed to make things
easier. He'd ordered it from the Internet.

"Brandon, you're scaring me.  Why are you doing all this
stuff to me?"

"Baby, I'm sorry, but I have to.  The idea occurred to me
and now I'm obsessed with it. It won't take long and I'll
be as careful as I can not to hurt you."

He raised my legs even higher and began to push his
hard, swollen cock into what he called "my love hole."

Hurt wasn't an adequate word to describe how it felt.  It
felt like a red-hot poker was being pushed up my bottom.
Luck was on my side; he made about three strokes and
collapsed atop me. I knew he had cum inside me- I felt it.

The weight of him on top of me was crushing. I asked,
"Brandon, are you done?"  He said, "Yes, our bodies are
now one and we belong to each other, even if I did cum
way too soon.  I'm sorry I did this but after the idea
occurred to me, it dawned on me that even if a minister
married two people they were not united, not one, until
they fucked.  You're always asking me if I love you.
Symbolically, I just married you."

It was beyond me, but I believed him, especially after
how extra kind, gentle and loving he was from then on. I
went to sleep with my hand wrapped around his cock.  It
was getting to be a habit.  I wondered how I'd ever break
it when it was time to go home.

Our last night before leaving, we took some pictures of
each other naked and close-ups of our erections and he
copied them to a hard disk for me, then gave me his
briefcase to put the computer instruction manuals in,
along with the diskettes and floppy disks.  He told me it
would be the best place to keep everything together and
the combination was 169 and showed me how to work it.
In the morning Aunt Millie gave me a letter to give my
mom and dad saying what a nice young man I was, how
they'd enjoyed my visit and how they hoped I could
come again next summer.

When Brandon took me home, he stayed two days, made
sure everything worked and paid for a year's broadband
access through the phone company. When it came time
for Brandon to leave, we said good-bye in my room and
went down stairs.   The last thing he said in my room
was, "I hope you're all cried out before we go
downstairs."

I missed him more than I though possible, but the
computer was a lifesaver for me.  Brandon was so crazy;
I'd never seen that side of him before except for that
night he got me drunk and fucked me and I loved him
more with each e-mail.  Over the course of time, he
mailed me a jock strap he'd jacked off in.  Then, one
time some underwear with a hard, discolored spot on
them.  When I finally reached puberty and e-mailed him
that I had, he mailed me a rubber and told me to jack off
it, tie a knot in it and mail it back, to prove I wasn't
fibbing.  One time he even had me get an erection, put it
on my desk and draw around it, so I could mail it to him.
He kept me busy doing crazy stuff like that.

School ended for the summer, I e-mailed him but he
didn't e-mail me back for five days. I was going ape
wondering what the matter was when Aunt Millie called
and said Brandon had been hit by a drunk driver that ran
a red light the same day he came home from the
University.  His car was knocked over onto its side. She
apologized that she hadn't called sooner, but everything
had been so hectic for her.  Brandon had his right arm
and right leg broken, his face was all cut and he had some
internal injuries that were keeping him in the hospital and
he wanted me to come to Sioux Falls to see him.

My dad called the airport and there were no direct flights
and the available ones necessitated a change of planes,
which he didn't want me to do.  He called the Union
Pacific, took some time off to drive me up there.  I threw
some stuff in a backpack, disconnected all the cords from
the computer, put them in the brief case and took it with
me.

Dad stayed one day and told me to call when I wanted to
come home.  Aunt Millie and I had just walked in the
door from visiting Brandon the next evening when the
phone rang.  It was my mom; she asked to speak to me.
She didn't really want to speak to me; when I picked the
phone up she started screaming so loud I had to hold the
phone away from my ear, "You should have come home
with your dad.  You tell Millie to drive you home right
now.  You spent weeks with that queer last summer and I
don't want you hanging around with him anymore or
you'll become just like he is. I mean it, Michael, you do
as I say."  I knew there was no use talking with her so I
just said, "OK, I will" and hung up hoping Aunt Millie
hadn't heard her.

	I went into Brandon's room and closed the door.
Some time later, Aunt Millie called through the door and
asked if I was OK.  I told her I was and I was about to go
to bed. I didn't.  I watched Brandon's TV so I wouldn't
fall asleep.  I didn't know what to do.  I felt sick.  My
mom had never screamed at me like that and I didn't like
what she'd said about Brandon.  I also knew that, all too
soon, she'd find out I was a queer and wouldn't accept
my being that way.  I couldn't even imagine what would
happen then.  I didn't want to go home and I couldn't
stay with Aunt Millie and Brandon or she'd cause them
all kinds of trouble.  As crazy as it sounds, I decided the
only thing left for me was to run away.  I jammed my
stuff into my backpack and left Brandon's briefcase in
his room. Around 11 PM, I left, taking all the money that
Aunt Millie had in her purse, which I'd seen her leave on
the kitchen counter when my mom called.  I left a note
saying, "I'm sorry."

I knew where Interstate 29 was and it took until midnight
to walk there.  I'd decided to go to San Francisco.  It took
a long time but my first and last rides were the best.  My
first one was all the way to Omaha.  I told the guy, Jim,
that I was going home to San Francisco and he took me
all the way through Omaha to Interstate 80.  On the way
he stopped at an all night gas and convenience store,
bought gas and we had coffee and hamburgers, then he
told me to get in the back seat and go to sleep. When he
let me out he asked if I needed some money.  I told him I
was OK and he said to be careful, some wierdos make a
hobby of picking up hitchhikers.  He was a nice man, he
must have weighed at least 250 pounds.  He barely fit
behind the steering wheel.  He told me I should see his
wife and daughter if I thought he was fat.

Jim was right, some guys just wanted someone to visit
with while they drove, some wanted way more and when
I'd say no they'd stop and let me out in the middle of
nowhere.  One turd actually slammed on his brakes,
pulled off onto the shoulder and said, "Put out or get out
you little prick teaser!"  I hadn't done anything to
encourage him.  At that time I felt like giving up and
going back. I was worrying about Brandon constantly
and would have gone back if I hadn't taken that money
out of Aunt Millie's purse.  In Green River, Wyoming I
went into a men's room, locked the door, took my clothes
off, washed myself all over, dried off with paper towels
and put on fresh clothes.  In Reno, I did much the same
thing at the Amtrak depot. I guess it paid off, as the guy
that picked me up was as nice as Jim.  When he noticed
me nodding off, he told me to climb over into the back
seat and he'd wake me up in San Francisco.  When we
were crossing the Bay Bridge he asked where in San
Francisco I wanted to go and he'd take me there. I
hesitated and finally told him to just let me off wherever
it was convenient and I'd call home.  He knew. "You
don't really live here, do you?"  I couldn't think of a
reply so I told him the truth, "No."  Like Jim he asked if I
needed any money, I told him no but he gave me twenty
bucks anyway and said, "You be careful, Mike.  If I
wasn't married with boys of my own at home, I'd take
you home with me."

I said I would, got out and looked at San Francisco.  It
was so big, busy and noisy that I wished that Brandon
was here with me.

Looking around I saw a street sign reading, "Market" and
another reading," Powell" along with a cable car being
turned around on a turntable.  I chose to walk up Powell
and sat down a few blocks up in a square block park
called "Union Square".  When a guy in his late teens or
early twenties sat down beside me, I asked him if he
knew of any cheap hotels.  He replied he knew of a lot of
cheap ones but no inexpensive ones.  An older guy,
sitting on the other side of me, told me where to find one,
gave me the name, what street it was on and pointed in
the general direction.   I found it and slept until l0 AM
when someone knocked on the door and told me to leave
by noon or come down to the desk and pay for another
night.  I had to piss like mad and remembered I hadn't
asked where the down-the-hall bathroom was so pissing
in the washbasin was my only choice.

At the end of the week, the money I'd stolen from Aunt
Millie's purse was gone.  The hotel wouldn't give me my
backpack because I couldn't pay last night's bill.

I went back to Union Square on the verge of tears. A guy
asked what was wrong.  I told him.  He said, whatever
you do, don't sleep in Union Square or the cops will tow
you away for overtime parking.  Another guy sitting with
us told me my best bet at night was to sneak into a
parking garage, take the elevator to either the highest or
lower level and crash out in front of the car that was
furthest from the elevator.

I was down to that for about three weeks. Another guy
had told me about a place called the Mission.  I found out
that you had to attend their church service before they fed
you. I went there several times but sneaked out after I ate.
I was leery of sleeping on a cot in a room with twenty or
thirty older, scruffy looking guys.

I was really down - tired, hungry despite one meal a day
at the Mission and was getting dirtier and smellier every
day.  I was on the verge of calling it quits and about
ready to walk up to a policeman and tell him I'd run
away from home and ask him to call my parents.  The
only thing that kept me back was not knowing what
they'd do to me until my parents could get here.

Then one day a guy that I figured for gay started talking
to me.  I told him about sleeping in the parking garage
and the Mission.  He asked me how long I'd been here
and suggested moving in with him and working the
streets.  I told him that I didn't think I could do that. He
responded that if I was to shy for that he knew a pimp
that would line up tricks for me.  I moved away and
found another bench. If nothing else, San Francisco was
sure an education – at least in sex.

The next guy that started talking to me was definitely a
teenager, nice looking - blonde, blue eyed, skinny and
had real long legs.  He ended up taking me to a fast food
place and buying me a hamburger and fries.  It seemed
gays were in the majority in Union Square, so on the way
back I wasn't too surprised when he asked if we could
jack off together or give each other blowjobs.  I said I
didn't have a place to go and he said he didn't either but
he knew an alley where he'd done stuff before and it
seemed fairly safe.

When he asked I told him I'd rather jack him off
than suck him.  By the time we got to the spot between
two dumpsters that he'd been looking for and fished out
our dicks, I just stared at his. It was less than three inches
long and a little bit fatter than a cigarette.  His balls were
about the size of green grapes.  It looked like a baby's
pee pee.  It was the cutest thing I'd ever seen.  I couldn't
help it; I bent over and went down on it. I guess I took
him by surprise; he popped his nuts faster than Brandon
had the night he got me drunk and fucked me.  He pushed
me off before he shot, explaining it wasn't a good thing
to let a guy come in your mouth in this town.  He
finished himself off by jerking, rubbed his juice over my
cock and jacked me off.

We hadn't even told each other our names.  He said
everyone called him "Tiny."  He walked me eight or nine
blocks to a huge Goodwill store, signaled for a guy who
he said was the manger, introduced me and walked out
the door.  The manager was a gruff, no nonsense kind of
man; he said, "What's your name?"

"Michael."

"If you want a job I've got one at $5.00 per hour working
Thursdays and Fridays, riding with the driver of one of
our pick up trucks, loading and unloading donations.
You can browse the store anytime and take home any
items you fancy.  I'm straight; you can sleep on the floor
of my one-room apartment, except when I hang a flag in
the window.  That means I'm busy, come back in two
hours.  Interested?"

"Yes, but does it bother you I'm only twelve?"

"It doesn't bother me.  It might bother George Bush and
our Governor the Terminator, but they don't shop in this
store very often, so screw 'em."  He took a key out of a
drawer, told me the number and address of his apartment,
took three $20.00 bills out of his pocket and slid them
across the counter saying, "Food money.  I'll pay you in
one week on payday and regularly every two weeks from
then on. Spend it only on food only because I'm going to
work your ass off.  You'll need the energy.  If you ever
show up at the store or the apartment even half stoned I'll
kick your ass out the door."

I told him the only clothes I had were those I had on.  He
reached under the counter, handed me a big, plastic bag
and told me to pick out what I needed.  On my way out,
he said, "Michael, don't panic but three other boys will
be sleeping on the floor with you.  It's crowded but better
than nothing when it's rainy and cold.

His apartment was empty, I stripped and took the longest,
hottest shower I'd ever had, finding a bottle of shampoo
and washing my hair, too.  Then I pulled some of the
clothes out of the bag and got dressed. Even in second
hand clothes – no underwear and no socks – I felt great.

Eighty dollars a week sounded like a fortune at the time
but even with the free room and clothing, it didn't go far
in San Francisco.  It's a high priced city.  Even the
Laundromats are expensive.  But it was enough to eat
something three times a day and I managed two or three
movies a month.  I stuck it out until around the middle of
November, and might have longer, but every day I was
growing more and more discouraged, feeling more sorry
for myself each day and more lonely, too – that was the
worst of all.  I thought of Brandon each waking moment
and when the truck driver I worked with would say
something, I was more and more replying, "Huh?"  My
mind wasn't in California it was in South Dakota.

I had Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays off and I slept
late then walked up one side and down the other of a
different street every day, trying to memorize the city.
One day I passed a store with a really crazy name,
"Kinko's" or "Kinky's" or something like that.  I stopped
and read the signs in the windows.  They did a lot of
things, Xeroxing, stapling and binding along with selling
paper, envelopes and mailing stuff Postal or Federal
Express.  What really caught my eye was the
advertisement saying you could rent computer time, write
documents and even send e-mails.

When the hotel clerk had kept my backpack I'd lost
Brandon's mailing address, I never did have his
telephone number committed to memory and I was a
little leery of talking to him anyway after the prank I'd
pulled, stealing money from his mom and all, but I didn't
think I could be traced through an e-mail.  So I sent him
one to see what would happen.  It was the day after next
before I came back to check if he'd replied.

He had – I had three e-mails from him – all very near
alike.

All of them were urgent pleas to call him, collect, at his
college dorm any time day or night.  He wasn't leaving
his room until I did. He gave me the phone number and
said I was not in trouble.  He'd talked with my dad and
he thought he knew why I'd left.  He was sick without
me and sick with worry, as were my parents.  Once I told
him where I was, he'd catch the first plane there
ALONE. Please! Please! Please! I love you! I love you! I
love you! Forever yours, Brandon

I knew I wanted to call him and I knew I had too. What
I'd done was wrong.  I went to a nearby hotel, found a
phone booth and took his e-mail out of my pocket and
dialed his number.

He must have been within reach of his phone. It rang
only once and Brandon said, "MIKE! Where are you?
Are you OK?"  I told him "San Francisco" and said I had
his e-mail in my hand and would really like to see him
again.  We both started crying and must have ran his
phone bill up like mad before we got ourselves under
control. After at least 15 minutes we got down to
arrangements.  He said he'd have to drive to Omaha to
catch a flight.  His bags were packed, he'd leave right
away, when and where could I meet him.  I was by that
time so rattled I had to ask him what day of the week it
was.  He replied, Wednesday.  I told him tomorrow was a
workday for me but I get it off, what time was he sure he
could be here.

"Tomorrow afternoon, let's set 4 PM to be sure. Where
can we meet?"

"Union Square, it's only a one block park, right
downtown and any cabdriver in town or at the airport
will know where it is."

I was there half an hour early and tried to figure out on
which side of the square a taxi coming from the airport
would let him; all the streets were one-way.  Then I
missed him and he was fifty feet in front of me before I
saw him and ran toward him so fast I nearly knocked him
over. I threw my arms around his neck, he put his arms
around my waist and started swinging me around and
around in full circles.  We were both giggling like little
girls.  He finally put me down and kissed me again and
again and again.  We were becoming the center of
attraction.  He said, "Maybe we should cool it." I told
him, "Don't worry, this is near normal behavior in Union
Square."

"Mike, I arrived in town an hour ago and checked into
the St. Francis across the street and waited until the time
we'd set to meet. Oh my God – there's so much to say
and do.  Are you hungry, do you know of a quiet place to
catch up then buy you some new clothes before we go to
the hotel?"

"Not really."

He hailed a cab, explained we were cousins and our
current problem.  The driver asked if junk food would be
OK and Brandon said yes.

The driver took off and stopped in front of a
neighborhood grocery, Brandon went in and came out
with a paper bag.  The driver took us all the way up to the
base of Coit Tower, said we might have a problem
getting a cab up here, maybe he'd better come back for
us in an hour.  It would be getting dark by then anyway.
Brandon asked, "Mike does that sound OK?"

"Sure."

Coit Tower turned out to be a monument to the
firefighters that lost their lives fighting the fires caused
by the San Francisco earthquake of 1906.  We read the
plague.  It was a beautiful day, the tower was on a hill,
you could see both bridges, Oakland, Alcatraz, Marin
County, planes landing at San Francisco International,
the Transamerica Tower and all of the other downtown
landmarks.  There were a few tourists milling around but
we got off by ourselves and Brandon asked me to tell him
all that had happened. I told him I didn't know where to
begin.  He said, "From the Beginning."

I told him about my mom's telephone call, not wanting to
go home and felt I had to leave or she'd make trouble for
Aunt Mille and him, about my hitchhiking, the hotel and
their taking my backpack, about sleeping in the parking
garage and the Mission and working for Goodwill.  I
guess it sounded worse than it was because Brandon said,
"Michael, Michael, Michael, and its all my fault."

"Why do you say that?"

"If I hadn't seduced you in the theater in Salina, none of
this would have happened."

"Don't blame yourself.  It sounds worse than it was.  And
if you hadn't seduced me that night, I'd never in my
whole life have seen your dick, jacked you off, been held
in your arms and kissed, or sat on your lap, or been
cuddled up against your chest at night, or known your
nick name is Bran Flakes, or known what it was to be in
love, to have been fucked or most importantly – to be
loved.  Oh I forgot, and I wouldn't have known anything
about computers.

"You remember everything. You're amazing."

"Sure I do, you are the only one in my life that matters.
You are my life.  I know that now.  Now it's your turn to
talk."

"OK, but I don't think I'll be as organized as you.  I'd tell
you how worried your parents, Millie and I have been,
but your ordeal has been much worse.  I think you should
know that your dad and I made a joint effort to find you
with the help of a psychology professor at the university.
He told us that statistics showed that most people live
within a thirty mile radius of where they were born, but if
they move further, they generally move west if they live
west of the Mississippi River or east if they live east of
the river.  If people move a long distance they generally
move to where there is a warmer climate. What I'm
leading up to is that he said statistics prove that runaway
children flee to California if they live west of the
Mississippi or to New York City if they live east of the
Mississippi. So your dad placed ads in the Personals
Section of every city newspaper from Seattle to San
Diego.  All with no results."

We took a breather and Brandon continued, "Mike is
there the slimmest chance you'll come home with me?

"What home do you mean?"

"Home with me, I'll rent an apartment in Vermillion,
where the University is and get you back in school.
But I do think you should see your mom and dad on the
way back.  Maybe we could stop over in Denver on the
way to Omaha and meet them in the airport there.  It
would, at least, be neutral ground.

"Just so they don't make me go home.
"Your mom is completely changed since you ran away.  I
don't think she will."

"I don't think I could.  It doesn't sound nice, but I've
forgiven her but I'm going to need more time before I
can love her again."

"You know, Mike, the Ten commandments say you only have
to honor your father and mother" - If you need more time
to love your mother, don't let it worry you.  It will come
about in due time."

The cab came back, we went to a department store and he
bought me some new clothes and had me change in a
new shirt, pair of jeans and a sports coat before we left
the store.  What I needed most was a new pair of shoes.  I
could never find any that fit at Goodwill.  We had a little
trouble checking into the St. Francis but when Brandon
suggested they call my parents, they relented.

We ate in one of their restaurants, talked over dinner and
well into the evening after going to our room.  Brandon
reminded me he had only a little over six months left to
graduate.  Then we could spend the summer traveling
around to see where we would like to live and that he'd
go wherever I wanted to – the mountains, a costal
location even the Caribbean.  The choice was up to me.

I said I already knew. He looked puzzled but asked
where?

"Moscow."

"Ok that's were we'll live, but don't be surprised if you
wake up some morning and I've run away."

"I was kidding."

"I know you were. I was too.  I'd never run away from
you even in Moscow. I lost you once – never again."

The talk began to dwindle down when we started kissing
and fooling around.  Fooling around and the love and sex
that followed were so hot, so everything, so long lasting
and so exhausting that we finally were ready to go to
sleep. Just before we did, Brandon said, "Hold it.  I think
that is the thing I've missed the most."

When we got off the plane in Denver, my mom and dad
were waiting at the arrival gate and the minute they saw
me they both began to cry.  It was the first time I'd ever
seen my dad cry. The first thing my mom said to me
when she stopped was, "Michael, can you ever forgive
me?"

It was an emotional meeting.

"I already have mom."

Later on Brandon explained I was going on to Vermillion
with him, he'd get me home to Salina as often as
possible, but I wasn't ready to move back home
permanently.  My parents surprised me when they
responded that I was still a little boy in their eyes but I'd
evidently decided on the course I wanted to take in life.
They had failed me but they wouldn't stand in the way of
my finding happiness.

I told them they hadn't failed me and I hope they didn't
feel I'd failed them.  Things just happened and emotions
just appeared that none of us were aware even existed.

Brandon kept his promise, we went to Salina, together,
every six months and sometimes at Christmas, too.

After looking all over, we ended up moving to Barbados
and living in a large apartment on one of their fabled
beaches on the east side of the island.   Brandon teaches
in a high school and I'm in a private school. One night,
before going to sleep, I said, "Brandon, remember a long
time ago you told me you were a boy lover?  Will you be
able to love me when I reach twenty-one?"

"Mike, I knew you were going to ask that sooner a
or later.  Let me explain.  Some gay men marry women
and discover they love women, too.  They are bisexual.
Some even become straight.  In our case, I discovered it
was you I loved and it didn't matter that you were
growing up.  I'll love you until the day I die.  Does that
answer your question?"

"It does."  I leaned over and kissed him.

To this day our love for each other is strong and
constantly growing stronger. (So is our sex life, by the
way.)  The apartment is handy.  When one or the other
gets all hard and horned up lying on or walking along the
beach, we can always hightail it home. The back of the
apartment faces the beach; the road is in front of the
apartment and we have a ground floor apartment.
Hightailing it home just means opening the sliding door
on the patio and going to the bedroom or doing it on the
living room floor.

Last January, one cold day in Kansas, my dad took the only
vacation he'd ever had and he and my mom came down and
spent three weeks with us.

The visitor that really surprised us, though, was Derek,
the lifeguard from Sioux Falls. He still wore a cup when
we were on the beach and I discovered Barbados boys
liked cocks, too.  That was OK, but I'd have to watch
them when Brandon and I were on the beach.


THANKS FOR READING MY STORY