by Willard, Guy
His eyes were closed again, and I could hear his breathing come faster. There was an expression of slight apprehension on his face, but apparently his anxiety wasn’t enough to quell the basic physical pleasure that my touch had brought him. Keeping my hand on his dick, I kissed him again on the lips. I wanted this precious moment to last forever.
In silence, he awaited my first move, curiously unresisting.
I let go of his dick and reached up to undo the knot at his hips, then slipped the towel off. It slid down to the floor with a slight rustle and Scott was fully exposed.
Dropping my hands to my sides, I gazed in silence. His dick, perhaps because it wasn’t fully hard yet, was smaller than I’d expected. It hung, semi-tumescent, angled slightly downwards upon his right thigh. This was my first chance to really examine an uncircumcised dick. Its skin was brownish in color, slightly darker than the skin on the rest of his body. The foreskin covered the entire glans, making the tip look like the mouth of a drawstring purse, with a puckered crease for an opening. The glans was only suggested as a mound under the skin, hidden with the rest of the shaft. The underside of the penis was prickled with individual hairs, as were the balls, which hung loose in their wrinkly sacs.
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” I whispered. “You’re wrong to think it’s ugly. It’s the sexiest dick I’ve ever seen.”
It rolled a little, as if in response to my words.
“Oh yes,” I said. “This is a dream come true. God, I’d love to see you with a sexy hard-on.”
Again, it stirred, and began to grow in size, swelling out sideways at first, slowly and lazily, then raising its head upward in clumsy jerks.
“Oh yes.”
Unable to resist, I reached across and took it in my hand. It twitched a little at my touch, as if shying away. Gently, I pulled downward on the shaft, drawing the foreskin off the glans. As the brownish skin slid effortlessly away, the exposed head emerged shiny and pink. It was glistening. With the glans freed, it was just like any circumcised dick, just like my own. I placed my finger gently on the pee slit and the shaft became even more engorged, and stiffened upward with spasmodic twitches.
Scott’s eyes remained closed.
“Oh yes!” I whispered.
His dick was up hard, pressing stiffly against his belly. I began touching it more boldly now, running my fingers along it, delighting in its hardness, nudging my thumb against the sensitive underside of the glans, encircling the rest of the shaft with my palm and employing a smooth stroking motion.
It got harder and harder with each stroke, swelling up huge, huger than I’d ever imagined—big, beautiful and hard. The glans was swollen purple, and appeared to be pulsing from within, to the beat of Scott’s passion, ready to burst.
My own dick was hard, as it had been ever since I’d first started kissing Scott. All my inhibitions gone now, I snaked out of my shirt and pulled my jeans off. When I slid the waistband of my undershorts down, my dick sprang up and slapped hard against my belly.
I looked at Scott. He was gazing down at my erection.
“Look, Scott, our dicks are the same. Exactly the same.”
I moved my body closer to his until our dicks were nuzzling, head to head. I let my glans kiss his, pull away and kiss again, and continued to tease him with these dick kisses until I myself could stand it no longer. I pressed my lower body against his, so that the shafts of our dicks were flat against each other, standing up straight and parallel. Seen like this, we were of a size, the same length, the same thickness, the same color, twins in a mirror, reflected.
Leaning my upper body back a little, I reached down between our bellies and gripped both shafts in one hand and began stroking them together.
For a while there was no response from him, only the sound of his breathing. His eyes were closed again. But in my palm his dick was like an iron rod, and my caresses were making it harder and harder. I watched his balls gradually shrink up into tight, compact nuggets, then retract until they were hugging the base of the shaft in one round lump. The glans was twitching rhythmically, in involuntary response. I looked up at his face.
He had caught fire and was no longer master of his emotions. His expression had become slack and he was responding to my stroking with soft, rhythmic little grunts.
This was what I’d been living for. This was what I wanted: to be able to watch at firsthand the face of the boy I loved as he was getting his pleasure. Much as I would have loved to go down on his dick and suck him off, this pleasure was even greater.
At this moment, all my misgivings and doubts had slipped away, all my guilt and anguish about being different from others, all the sordid encounters I’d had in toilet stalls, under the trees, the lying to Christine, to Golden, to the whole world, all the world’s condemnation of my queerness…nothing mattered. I was happy because my whole life had led up to this. If I had but this one encounter in my life, it would all have been worthwhile. And I knew this moment would never come again in my whole life.
I watched his face closely, knowing with a sure instinct communicated through my hand that he was moving rapidly toward the point of no return.
I continued my steady stroking, gradually increasing the speed, sometimes stopping to get a better grip. Suddenly he moaned. His whole being yearned only for one thing now—the relief of orgasm. I myself was so aroused that the only thing I wanted was to hold off my own orgasm long enough to be able to enjoy his. Though my instinct was to shut my eyes and give myself up to bliss, I kept them open to record, to remember this sight forever.
The up-and-down motion of my hand was now a blur. The violence of my stroking was making both our bodies jump and jerk.
How much longer could I hold off? It was an endurance contest of the most torturous kind. And then, his head lolled back a little, his mouth slightly open. I watched his lips curl back from his teeth at the moment he crossed the line beyond which all control is relinquished; his body was now on automatic pilot, he could only go along for the ride.
And I was taking him to the end of the ride, the ultimate end.
I felt like kissing him, but his face looked blank, with an almost death-like pallor. And then, with a soft cry he bit his lower lip hard. From below, I heard a slight rasping sound and felt sudden warmth sprinkle my chest. The first contact of his semen triggered my own orgasm, and I looked down to see my own white fuck jet up in vigorous spurts, all the way up to Scott’s chest, then lower down, onto his belly. I thought I would never stop coming. The pleasure accompanying my orgasm was excruciatingly sweet, and only slightly less pleasurable afterwards, as I continued stroking even after I’d stopped ejaculating. I wanted to stay like that forever, with the feel of Scott’s warm semen on my skin, the essence of Scott, from deep inside his body. It was all Scott, and I was thankful to be gay, that I might receive this magical distillation which was the most Scott-like part of Scott.
But he had other thoughts. I felt him stir. He made a move to turn away and I said, “Wait.” Reaching down carefully, I picked up my jeans and fished in the back pocket for my handkerchief. Tenderly, I wiped my semen off his chest, his belly, his groin. Some had dribbled down into his pubic bush. When I was finished, I wiped myself off. By the time I’d done, he’d gone over to his dresser and pulled out his clothes, had finished putting them on. I carefully folded the handkerchief and began putting my own clothes back on. Now that the heat of passion was over, I felt acutely conscious that Scott might have regretted our moment of rashness. What he’d felt couldn’t possibly compare to the absolute bliss I’d experienced.
I dropped limply to the floor and sat there for a long while on my knees, stupidly slack. I felt happy, completely happy, maybe for the first time in my life. I could almost ignore that tiny feeling of guilt playing at the edges of my consciousness like some distant lightning not part of my world, but maybe of another one, somewhere over the horizon where people spoke a different language and had different customs.
It seemed like a lo
ng while before I looked up at Scott. He was sitting on the bed. Only now did I realize that the door had been unlocked the whole time. Anyone could have opened it and caught us in the act.
“Scott?”
He didn’t respond—didn’t give any indication that he’d even heard. He looked as if he couldn’t believe what had happened.
“Was it…that bad? I mean, you don’t seem to want to talk about it or anything.”
Still, he wouldn’t say anything.
“Talk to me, Scott. What’s your reaction to what just happened?”
When he finally answered, it was in a soft, almost apologetic voice. “Well, it was just something that happened. I don’t condemn you for it, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s finished now. Past, done with. Don’t worry about me. I won’t hold anything against you.”
He was discussing it as if I’d committed a crime, and that made me feel more guilty than ever. I knew that deep down he thought of it as ugly and dirty—something he’d put up with out of friendship or guilt. But I knew that it wasn’t sinful and dirty; it was beautiful. I knew it with all my being.
“Scott, what happened just now, for me isn’t just a passing thing. I’m still feeling the after-effects of it. The homosexual experiences I’ve had until now were so unfeeling, with people who meant nothing to me. But with you it was for the first time with someone I truly care about. What happened here just now, it was the most wonderful thing in my whole life. Nothing else even comes close. You don’t know how much it means to me. For the first time, I actually felt happy at being homosexual. It was an affirmation, almost a justification of all I ever suffered for being different from the others.”
Suddenly, he slammed his fist into the bed mattress, hard. I thought I saw tears in his eyes. “Guy, if you want to know the truth of it…what we just did—I enjoyed it. I mean, physically. And I confess—watching those guys under the bleachers the other night, I got sexually excited. So excited that I almost couldn’t sleep all night. I’m worried—I might be gay myself.” He turned to me with a look of almost terror. “Do you think I might be gay, maybe, and not know it?”
I felt suddenly very weary. “You’re not gay, Scott. You enjoyed it because it was enjoyable. There’s no such thing as a maybe gay. You’re either gay or you’re not, and if you don’t know it by now, you’re not.”
He seemed unconvinced, so I went on:
“Believe me, Scott, if you were homosexual, you’d know. Sure, there are some homosexuals who don’t want to face the fact, but even they know, deep down inside, that there’s no denying it. When you’re queer, it’s something which colors your whole life, almost from the time you’re born, and not something which can be changed by a single incident. So your worry is just a waste of time.” It felt strange to be trying to convince the boy I loved of his heterosexuality. It could only succeed in pushing him further away from me. At the same time, I needed him to be pure; I loved him for his purity.
“Well, if you say so, then I must not be.”
“You love Christine, don’t you? That feeling is no lie.”
“But you did, too, didn’t you? I mean, before.”
“But that love was probably different from the love you feel.”
“Are you going to tell Christine about what happened?”
“No. In fact, I don’t think I’ll tell her anything anymore.”
“What do you mean?” His face went pale and he looked ready to crumple into tears.
I looked straight into his eyes. “Scott, Christine needs a normal guy, not someone like me.”
“Normal? What’s ‘normal?’ I don’t think I know anymore.”
“You’re normal, Scott. Perfectly normal. Better than normal, because you’re open-minded.”
“Open-minded….”
“I know Christine likes you, and you two have a lot more in common with each other than with me.”
“Guy….”
“I don’t care how you feel about me, but my feelings for you will never change. You’re the first person I ever truly loved, Scott. Don’t take that away from me. You can think of me as a friend, but from my side, it’s love, pure and strong. I love you, Scott. Just accept that. You don’t have to return it. Just know that I love you, and don’t reject me for it.”
“I don’t understand. Such a relationship can’t exist. There’s never been anything like it. Either two people love each other, or they are friends. There’s no in-between relationship like that.”
“Just let me enjoy the crumbs of your affection, every now and then, like just now. Or I’ll go crazy.”
“Guy, what I told you earlier— I said it made no difference. But accepting you for what you are doesn’t mean I want to join you.”
I turned my face away and felt my eyes fill with hot tears. There was silence for a long time as I gazed downward at the floor unable to look up. I felt a heavy weight on my heart, like the weight of centuries of failure, a lifetime of deception, of lost hopes and shattered dreams. All my frustrations were suddenly gathered together into one point and focused with a white hot clarity upon this moment in time.
I felt his hand on my shoulder.
“Guy, don’t take it like that. It can’t be helped. There’s nothing I can do. You know I’ll do anything I can for you as your friend. But there’s a certain line I can’t cross. Please don’t ask me to. What you’re asking me to do is something I can’t do. If you accept that, there’s nothing that will stand in the way of our friendship. You know that.”
I said nothing.
“I’ll go to the limit for you, Guy. As a friend. That’s what friends are for.”
Scott suddenly seemed to have become so much stronger than before. In our relationship, I was the weaker one now. He was the conqueror, and I the slave…to my need of him. He knew my secret now—that which constituted my very weakest, most vulnerable point. I almost wished that I hadn’t given in to my sexual desire. A moment’s rashness had completely altered our relationship. Still, I knew I would do it again, in an instant, if I knew I could hold him in my arms again, kiss him, and touch his dick. What we’d done hadn’t diminished my love for him at all. If anything, it had only strengthened it. I still needed him more than ever.
But the vision of the two of them, Scott and Christine, happily heterosexual, content in their relationship, one unbreakable unit, excluding me—forever—seemed to rise up before me. The beautiful picture they made, I wanted to destroy it, utterly.
I felt a thrill race through my heart. My love for Scott had never been stronger than it was at this very moment. It was like a drug which was charging me with a strange energy. With it I would be able to crush him, completely. For the only way I could satisfy my love for Scott now was to destroy him, and his budding happiness with Christine.
In the crazy logic of my ecstasy, I knew that my love could only culminate in his utter destruction. It was all so clear, like a mathematical theorem. If love was need, then love was also selfishness, the ultimate ego gratification.
I wanted to crush him. It would give me a pleasure by comparison with which sex with him was a joke. I knew that my love for him could only climax at the moment of his utter humiliation. Only when he was totally humiliated could I could love him completely, to my heart’s desire. He had to be dirtied, dragged down to the lowest depths.
I knew, with the certainty vouchsafed only to the gods, that I was perched at the emotional climax of my entire life. My love for Scott had now taken over my human form and was guiding it like an alien intruder.
I faced him calmly—so calmly that my blood ran cold at the mastery I possessed over my emotions, the calculating manner with which I was plotting my own downfall.
“You want to know the truth, Scott? The whole truth?”
“What do you mean?”
His look of concern only goaded me on. I wanted to hurt him—to give him more pain than he’d ever given me. A shadow of concern flitted across his face. I wanted to savor that look
of helpless fear. He was afraid of me—of the hurt he’d inflicted on me.
“You want to know something, Scott? Your feelings for Christine…I knew about them all along.” Stop, Guy. Don’t do it. “I knew you were in love with her.”
“What? You mean she—?”
“No. She didn’t say anything. And do you want to know why she slept with you?”
“Guy….”
“Do you think she did it out of love for you? Or because you successfully seduced her? Wrong. I asked her to sleep with you.”
“What?”
“That’s right. I wanted you to lose your virginity. I wanted—”
“Guy! I don’t want to hear any more.”
“You weren’t betraying me, Scott. You had my blessing. It was the way I wanted it. Because that was the only way I could have you—through Christine. Get it?”
“I don’t believe it, Guy. I really don’t. You’re just saying that.” Tears flashed in his eyes.
I looked away. “I guess I thought I had a chance of winning your love, even if it was shared with Christine. I don’t know what I thought. A three-way scene where we could all be in love with each other. Because I knew Christine is partly in love with you, too. I’ve known it for a long time, and wanted to see it grow…and mature. I just gave it a little extra push.”
He rushed for the door.
“Wait.”
The door slammed and he was gone. I jumped to my feet and ran after him, feeling the floor swaying under me. The hallway outside was crazy, reeling and making silence into a long tunnel I had to traverse. I saw Scott at the far end of it rushing down the stairs; one moment he was in my vision, the next moment he was gone.
I leaned against the wall for support, almost knocking the telephone off its cradle. Without thinking, I reached into my pocket and slipped a quarter into the slot, began dialing Christine’s number, almost by instinct. I had no idea what I was going to say to her. I just let myself go, watching myself as if I were watching a character in a movie. I knew that Scott was heading for her place. I knew it. There was nowhere else he could go. And maybe I wanted to beat him there, to get to Christine before he could. But when I heard the dial tone sounding, I hung up. There was nothing more I had to say anyone anymore.