Date: Tue, 31 Jan 2012 03:03:40 -0500 From: Jesse Jesse Subject: Before Ross I am constantly amazed at how life changes, changes events, changes our personal lives, changes our viewpoints. I am also amazed at how our choices have such dramatic effects on our lives. I am the type of person that incessantly plans, planning the day's meals, planning what day I'm going to get a haircut two weeks ahead, spontenaity is most definitely not my greatest gift. But there are those times when the best things, or people, in our lives come from daring, emotional heat-of-the moment decisions. Had someone told me just a few years ago that now I'd be so happy, I would've told them they were either lying or out of their mind, but here I am. Why am I so happy? Well, the answer is not really an answer at all, but a name, Ross. Without going into great detail right now, Ross is my everything. He truly is the person who brought happiness to my life again. Ever since I was eleven or twelve I'd had grand dreams of going to Juliard. I do not mean to brag or give false impressions, but you might say I have a musical gift. My mother played piano, and was determined that I learn to play as well, but what neither of my parents expected was my playing Chopin or Korsakov's "Flight of the Bumblebee" perfectly by the time I'd turned six. Needless to say, my parents and my piano instructor were delighted. By the time I'd reach senior year, quite literally, every university in the state offering music programs had received letters from both my personal and high school music instructors, but as I said, my heart was fixed on Juliard. But these dreams all changed in an instant one stormy night just after graduation. My parents had decided to "have one more family movie night before Jesse left." Nothing about that evening had been unusual. Even the thunderstorms rolling through hadn't been particularly violent or dangerous. It was the drive home after our movie that brought my world crashing down. Though my memories of that night still blur into one terrible, bloody scene with hardly any real recollection of the details, I was to learn later that a drunken driver was at fault. The rain had poured all day, so the roads were wet, but even my dad's careful driving couldn't make up for a drunk crossing the median at 70 miles per hour in the pouring rain. The last memory I have of my mother and father are their screams of fears as both cars plunged head-on towards each other, and afterwards my mind still goes black to this day. I can't honestly say that I remember the days that immediately followed my parents' death. My parents were older when I'd been born, and I was an only child, so there weren't as many relatives or family to be with during this time. There were no aunts or uncles, and my grandparents had long since been gone. How empty that house felt without them, and how quiet. I suppose that's what broke my heart most of all, the quiet. For someone who's never experienced the death of someone so close, nothing hurts worse than that first time you walk through the front door, catching yourself at that last second before habit bids you call out their name, and realizing that there is no one there any more. Truth be told, several times during those first few weeks after my parents' death, I gave great consideration to sticking my father's pistol to my temple and pulling the trigger. The final blow came one afternoon when the mail was pushed through the slot and I saw the letter, the letter of rejection. I had been determined, even after their deaths, to make my parents proud by putting all their hard work and efforts for me to use and going to Juliard. But the letter that I read with trembling hands wasn't a letter of acceptance. It wasn't even one of those "apply again when you have a more well-rounded transcripts." It was a flat out "no," total rejection. That letter was the final straw. Though I realize now how foolish I was, at that time I truly wanted to die. I didn't feel as though there was anything left to live for. But it was as I was fumbling through my father's gun cabinet for cartriges that I found something that both made me weep all the more gave me the slightest ray of hope, a brochure on touring Scotland. "Both our families, your mother's and mine, are originally from Scotland, son. My grandfather was from Perth. Used to love to listen to him talk. Maybe some day we can take a family trip, maybe see where Grandpa was born.............." Fresh tears coursed down my face as I recalled that speech. How many times had I heard it before? How many times had dad talked about traveling to Scotland? And it was there with a brochure in one hand and a 38 pistol in the other that I made both the most reckless, and without doubt the best decision of my life. I was going to Scotland. Yeah, somewhere 3,000 miles away should at least be a start on getting away from all these memories. I didn't know exactly how just yet, but I knew. After all, Mom and Dad had left me a considerable amount in their insurance policy. It's not as if I'd have to worry about money or working for a while, so two weeks and an eight hour flight to Glasgow later I found myself stepping into a tour bus. To my great surprise, there was hardly anyone on the tour. I was to find out later that, had I not booked last minute, the small company would have been forced to cancel and reimburse the other tourists. That first night we were all invited to the hotel bar for a "get together drink," and it was there that I first met the person who was to become the love of my life. The whole grand total of five of us were standing around the bar when the most gorgeous young man I ever had, and ever have since, laid eyes on came strolling in. He was slightly taller than average height, just a couple of inches taller than myself, muscular, though not in an over-muscled way, the bluest of blue eyes that seemed to stare through skin and bones into your very soul, jet black hair that was spiked strait up, high cheek bones, beautiful, supple lips, and a rather boyish scraggly goatee, but what made my heart flutter most of all was his voice. "Hello everyone. I hope ye had a guid flight o'er, and I'd like tae welcome ye tae Scotland. My name's Ross, and I'll be ye're guide fer our tour 'o Scotland. We'll be startin' bricht and early in the mornin', so I'd advise ye all tae get a guid night's rest." A good nighth's rest? How was anyone suppose to get a "guid night's rest" when you'd been subjected to a vision like that? My night, exhausted as I was, was torterous. What bit of restless sleep I had was interrupted by visions of my parents or Ross. I couldn't understand what the big deal was. It wasn't as though I hadn't seen a hundred guys before that I had drooled over. Maybe it was the accent, or maybe it was being so far from home. Whatever the case, I woke the next morning hardly any more rested than when I'd gone to bed. Ross was up "bricht and early," as he'd spoken, smiling a dazzling smile at everyone as we boarded that coach after breakfast. He laughed heartily as we made our way through through the early morning traffic of Glasgow. "I'd like tae take a sec and apologize tae everyone aboot the weather. Forecast said a guid day taeday, but as ye can see, it's a right driech day oot there. Ah well, that's Scotland fer ye, sun, rain, and snow all in the same day. Maybe it'll pass by the time we reach Loch Lomond!" And it did just that. His deep, rich voice so held my attention that I hardly noticed as we crossed the river Clyde, or the explanation of the Clydesdal horse originating in Clydebank. It seemed as though I couldn't take my eyes or ears off the beautiful young man expounding his vast knowledge of his homeland. By the time we reached Loch Lomond the sun had chased the clouds away to reveal the true splendor of the Scottish Highlands. One look and I knew why my father had always dreamed of making the journey. The sun shone resplendent upon the water of the loch that stretched for miles. The late summer heather seemed to solor the mountains and ridges until there were nothing but purples, lavenders, and pinkish whites all around. I found myself drawn to the frigid water. "It's lovely, isn't it?" Friendly as they were, those four words so startled me that I found myself toppling from my perch atop a rock jutting out into the water and plunging into the icy wet. Panic filled my mind and soul. I couldn't swim! I fought and kicked, but it seemed the harder I began resisting the water, the more lead-like my body's weight became. With every attempt to scream I gulped icy mouthfuls of water. Suddenly, completely forgotten in my panic, two muscular arms encircled my waist and began tugging me toward the surface. "Come on now, laddie. This isn't the time tae tense. Let yer body relax a bit, or ye'll droon us both." Slowly but surely Ross hauled us both from the bitterly freezing water and up the steep back to the rock that had been my perch. Laying me gently down, he began undoing the sopping shirt that clung to him and wringing water from it. "Here now, we've tae get ye back tae the coach and bandaged up. Ye've had a guid bump on yer head, and ye're bleedin' a bit. Hold this against yer head 'till we get ye back." Freezing, panicked, and embarassed as I was, what I saw when Ross peeled the shirt from his body made me gasp. His body was beautiful, far more so than anything my dreams had concocted the night before. Strong, muscular shoulders gave way to two musculed arms. Two supple mounds were well defined on his chest, and whispy dark hairs protruded from between them. His pecs were topped by wonderfully round, perfectly stiff nipples surrounded by more whispy dark hairs. Six defined abdominal muscles bulged down the front, giving way to a treasure trail that proceeded from his belly button into his soaked jeans. His strong hands pulling my arm, and his wonderfuly kind voice jerked me from my reverie. "All right noo, let's get ye on yer way back tae the coach." The trip back to the motor coach, though I was held tightly by Ross, was the most humilitating experience I've ever had. People along the banks stared and whispered. A few even snickered as we passed, but Ross trudged on, half dragging me as we went. But had I thought the ordeal was over, I was far from right. "All right, let's get ye on the coach, and then we'll both get changed." My heart stopped within my chest. "Changed?" Even in the circumstances, he managed to smile. "Aye, we've got tae change. Canna walk around all day in these wet clothes. Ye'll catch pneumonia. But don't worry. After I get our suitcases, we'll lock the door of the coach so no one can barge in." My voice turned shrill. "But there's no bathroom on the bus!" His smile seemed to double across his face. "Well then, we'll just have tae turn our heads, won't we?" After a moments digging through the suitcases stored on the bus, Ross found my labeled black bag, and an old worn leather bag that I took to be his. He stopped for a moment and stared at me. "Do ye think ye can take care of yerself, er do ye need some help?" I nearly staggered at his words, but was thoroughly shocked to see that his eyes and face shown with sincerity. "I think I'll be fine, thanks. I'm just so sorry I got you into this. I've fucked up royally." He smiled a dashing smile again. "That's all right. Believe or not, I've had worse. Well, if ye don't need any help, I'm freezin'. Go tae get oot o' these clothes." Though I tried my damnedest to attend to my own disrobing, I sat in awe at the sight that unfolded just a few rows of seats before me. The wet jeans gave way to two muscular, hairy legs, but what really got my attention was on the underwear that Ross wore. If it wasn't enough that they looked as though they'd been painted onto his body, being wet too they left no wonder or room for imagination as to what was inside. Two full, slighty hairy mounds came into view as the underwear slid down from his waiste. I felt my eyes widen as he turned before me. I could've passed out. His treasure trail rain from his naval down to a sack that seemed to hang halfway down to his knees, seeming to hold something as big as goose eggs inside. Though limp and soft, his dick still seemed a good six inches to me. I felt my mouth go dry, but my worst horror came when I realized that he'd been talking to me. Sheer horror filled my sould as he stared at me for a second and began making his way down the aisle of the coach towards me again. "Are ye all right? Ye look like ye're sick er somethin'." I felt my face flush, turning hot as it crimsoned, and then most embarrassing of all, I felt tears begin to trickle down my cheeks. Ross's muscular, and still very naked, body was at my side in a second. "Here noo, what's this? I can take a lot 'o things, but seein' someone cry isna one of them." I wanted to simply evaporate away, just melt and flow away like water. I couldn't explain it, but my heart ached. In that moment of shivering on that bus I had hit a wall, an emotional wall that had brought me to the lowest I'd ever felt. If it hadn't been enough to lost Mom and Dad, now here I was in the very place we'd always dreamed of going together, and I'd fucked that up too. My body wracked with pain and embarassement. Quite unexpectedly, I felt two muscular arms wrap around me. "Come on noo, what's this? Ye're on holiday. Ye're not suppose tae be sad noo. What's wrong?" Through my sobs I began to explain to him how I'd wound up to be sitting with him now. "........and so now I'm sitting here sopping wet, having screwed up the last bit of my parents I had left!" I felt myself being pulled into his muscular body, my cheek coming to rest on his chest. Rough and calloused as they were, his hands were so gently as they began tracing patterns into my neck. "Listen tae me Jesse. It's not yer fault about yer parents, and it's certainly not yer fault aboot fallin' inta the loch. I thought you knew I was there, but I see noo I scared the shit out 'o ye! I'm so sorry fer that. I'm afraid I've fucked up yer chances 'o ridin' the boat tour of the loch. I am sa sorry. Ye can report it when ye get back home, or if ye want, I'll take ye back to the airport noo." My heart nearly stopped beating as I realized that two full lips were placing tender kisses on my forehead as he tried to calm me. What happened next I still look back to this day on in amazement. From somwhere deep within, some undiscovered part of my soul, I found courage to raise my head and stare Ross strait into those steely blue eyes, and then, raising ever so slowly, I placed my lips to his. My heart nearly stopped when I felt him hesitate for a moment, but before I could pull back I felt him respond, slowly at first, but then taking charge. After a few moments I felt his tongue slide across my bottom lip. Opening my mouth, I yielded to the overwhelming pleasure of this sexy Scotsman's mouth. He stopped only momentarily and stared at me. "We really shouldn't be doin' this. The others willna be back from the cruise fer a while, but we still shouldn't. Are you absolutely sure aboot this?" I stared at him for a moment. Did I really want this? Here we were, naked and making out on a tour bus in, me in a foreign country, and expecting the others to eventually come back. Did I really want this? "Yes, yes I do. But I want more than this...............much more."