Boys Will Be Boys - Their First Time (48 page)

His skin was smooth, of course; I never doubted it would be.
And his muscles were solid without being hard, which is also what I expected.
I traced my fingers from his left shoulder up his trapezius to his neck, then down and around his throat and across to his right shoulder.
There was a sharpness to his bones that I found surprising
but right.
Then I pulled back to his chest, felt the soft down whisper against my fingers as I followed the line of his right pec around to its nipple.
All perfectly molded.
I let my fingers circle it atop the bumpy little ridges (just noticeable under the hair) and then brush over the erect tit in the center of it all.
He drew in a deep breath when I did that
,
so I did it twice more, making him almost gasp in surprise.

Mee-yow, pussycat.

“
Keep your eyes closed,
”
he said.

I smiled
,
and did
,
and proceeded to the left nipple to repeat my motion
and got the same response.
His breathing quickened.
So did mine.
Then he shifted in a way that made me think he was growing erect
,
and I finally felt a stirring in my own crotch.
I began to wonder if I really had to stop at the top of his shorts.
Time to find out.

My fingers drifted up the center of his chest, fanning out a little with the hair they caressed, then I let them slip down
,
down
,
down the middle of his abs, feeling the flowing smoothness of the taut muscles and laughing little follicles that surrounded his navel.
I was still drawing and felt it gave me the excuse to send my hand gliding around his belly to his right side and trace up to his rib cage
,
to feel the ripple of small bones under elegant skin.
Then I pulled my hand back across, slipping below his chest to his left side, and let the tops of my fingers trail back down to his waist.
I heard him swallow just as I reached the cruel nylon top of his shorts.

“
Keep your eyes closed,
”
he said.

I did, but only because the sensation of touch had overwhelmed any need I had to see.
I followed the waistband of the shorts, felt the ridge of elastic peeking through, noticed they grew tight and dipped
,
and before I realized it, I was touching hair.

I stopped and my eyes flew open without me even thinking
,
and I saw he had pulled the waistband of the shorts down with his right thumb and was holding them tight against his right thigh, exposing his pubes.

“
Told you to keep your eyes closed,
”
he said.

Suddenly
,
I felt betrayed, for some reason, and I jerked my hand away.
“
What the fuck
is
this, Aaron?
You think you can play games with me?
‘
You can
’
t touch my dick, but I
’
ll fuckin
’
tease you with it!?
’
Shit!
”

He blinked and straightened, startled by my outburst.
“
Sorry, Joe.
Thought you
’
d like it.
”
He let go of the shorts and they snapped slightly into place low around his hips.
He was about to pull them up when
– h
ello
–
my brain snapped into awareness and my hands snapped to atop his to stop him.
My thumbs were resting in the curve where his leg curled away from his groin, at his tan line, touching skin that was smooth and creamy.
Some of his pubes were still exposed, looking soft and inviting in the gentle light.

“
I would,
”
I said, my voice aching,
“
but not like that.
”

I knelt before him, as does a knight before his king, my hands still resting on his.
He watched me, warily
–
no, maybe a little scared of me
–
but did not try to shove me away.
And me
–
I was so full of my own sense of being, I didn
’
t even think about what I was doing.
I leaned up and took his left tit in my teeth and felt the golden hairs tickle my lips and chin and nose as I pulled at it oh-so-gently and my tongue darted across its top.
He gasped and tensed
but did not pull away.

“
Like this,
”
I said, softly, as I let my lips drift through the sea of soft down over to his right tit, then took that one gently in my teeth and slipped my tongue across it
and got the same response.

“
Holy shit, Joe,
”
he stammered.

“
Call me Jam,
”
I said
and then to my complete amazement, I rose and kissed him.
His lips were everything I
’
d dreamed they could be – warm, soft, molding themselves to mine.
I didn
’
t try Frenching; it seemed
wrong for the moment.
I think that
’
s why he let his mouth linger on mine, for a moment (for a lifetime), before he pulled back
,
pulled away, completely.
He bolted to his feet and grabbed his
T-shirt
.

“
I
...
better head,
”
he said, his voice shaking.

“
Aaron
...
”

“
I
’
m not that way, Joe!
”
he snapped as he pulled his shirt on.
“
Never even thought
‘
bout it, an
’
I don
’
t
...
I can
’
t
...
”

“
Nobody says you are,
”
I said, rising to my feet.
“
I
’
m just like
...
like an Olga to you, showing you how much you like to be touched.
”
Man, what a lame argument!
“
Besides
...
one
...
one time doesn
’
t make you queer.
Not even two or three or a dozen, if at the end of it all, you still prefer girls.
It
...
it just means you
’
re
...
adventurous.
”
(Oh, and that was even lamer
.
)

But he stopped by the door, his shirt only half on.
I noticed the light had faded, outside, to the point where everything had taken on a soft sapphire hue and the world seemed calm and wonderful.
I had no lights on in my room.

“
Not
...
not tonight,
”
he murmured.
“
I
...
I gotta think.
”

“
I understand,
”
I said.
“
You don
’
t want to, that
’
s fine.
I
’
ll still do the painting.
But buddy, don
’
t think this to death.
People make too much out of things that just
...
just happen.
They politicize them and
...
and label them
...
and that
’
s wrong.
That
’
s just wrong.
You and me
...
that won
’
t mean anything but
...
but you and me.
”
And don
’
t ask me to explain what I meant by that; I can
’
t.

He eyed me, no trace of his smile or special look, just raw conflict.
His breath was fast and sharp.
He licked his lips a couple of times.
I had to say something
,
say it now.
Now
!

“
Aaron, I mean it:
you put up a boundary
,
and I
’
ll respect it.
But I
...
I really want to do more renditions of you.
Watercolors.
Acrylics.
Oils.
Pastels.
Everything.
I
...
I look at you and I
...
I see perfection, and I want to capture that.
”

He rolled his eyes, and I can
’
t say I blame him.
So I shut up.
Probably the smartest thing I ever did.
He closed his eyes
,
crushed them closed for what seemed like hours
,
or minutes, I couldn
’
t say.
Then they opened.

“
If my daddy could see me,
”
he laughed
then seemed to make up his mind.
He curled back against the door, clicking it closed, his hands at his sides.
His eyes seared into mine.
I think my heart stopped, for a moment, when he said,
“
I
’
m not turnin
’
queer for you.
”

I carefully slipped over to him.
“
I know,
”
I whispered
then I kissed him, again.
And this time, he didn
’
t break away.

What can I say about that moment?
About drawing Aaron close to have his lips touch mine and feel his breath dance over my cheek?
About my hands slipping
‘
round his waist to the small of his back to hold him next to me?
About molding myself against him and knowing his strength and grace and beauty as it caressed my body.
Even through two layers of clothing I could feel his exquisite muscles quivering against me.
I began to shake from the intensity of the emotion as the meaning of it all overpowered my own concept of myself.

I
’
d never gotten even close to being with someone as gorgeous as Aaron, before, but that didn
’
t seem to matter.
The intimidation I
’
d felt so many times as I watched him cross the campus with his slow genial saunter
–
an intimidation I
’
d always believed was endemic to my makeup
–
vanished in the reality of his skin warm against mine.
The understanding that I was bland or plain or average (choose your adjective, here) dissolved into nothingness like Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy did when I learned my dad and mom filled the roles, respectively.
My life prior to this moment was nothing more than myth-filled half-truths and misconceptions laced with fears and stupidity, and now none of it carried any weight.
The only important thought was that he and I were together, even if it might be for just a few moments and then never again.
I could have died right then and been happy.

I moved away from the kiss and let my lips dip to his chin and down his throat to his chest as my hands slipped under his shirt and slowly, carefully slid it up
,
up
,
up over his body.
He raised his arms and let me guide it higher and higher
,
let my fingers tickle the sandy hairs under his arms as the material slipped past
,
let the palms of my hands caress his skin as I pushed the shirt off him, completely.
Then I let my lips drift back to his right tit
,
let my teeth gently take it
,
let my tongue flit over it.

Instinctively, Aaron moved back
,
but then held still, letting me play with his nipple and pull it harder until he was cringing from the sensation and little whimpers of joy were escaping him.
I could tell he was wearing briefs, this time (which only added to the sexiness of the moment, so far as I was concerned), but molded against his body like I was, I could also tell that the screaming lightning had launched itself from my mouth to his thighs and slammed him into straining hard against the cotton fabric.
I almost moaned for joy when it became too much for him
,
and he breathlessly curled his right arm around my head and slipped his hand over half my face to guide my mouth away from his chest.