An account of my life through my writing, the arts, men and media. All things homoerotic.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
I think about him often. I think about how differently our lives would have been if I hadn't been married and had a child.
It all started out innocently enough. I never planned it going the way it went. We both volunteered to work on a Suicide Hot line for a Campus Christian Outreach. Neither of us was really qualified to talk people out of killing themselves. The training was minimal and we basically just tried to get them to accept Jesus as their personal savior and then hopefully they would stop thinking about killing themselves. We had a lot of down time. Most of the calls were middle aged alcoholic housewives who just wanted some attention and someone to talk to.
"Wanna wrestle?" he asked one night around three in the morning. The shifts were from ten in the evening until six in the morning. The phones were in the office area adjacent to a large carpeted meeting room. The front windows were frosted so no one could see in.
"OK. But let's do it in our underwear." We climbed out of our clothes and stood facing one another.
"Lets do it naked." he suggested. I hesitated while he gave me a mischievous grin.
"OK." We pulled our underwear off and threw them to the side. My heart was beating rapidly as I crouched and we began to circle one another. He rushed me and soon we were on the carpet struggling with our legs and arms wrapped around one another. Neither of us had any formal wrestling training. Ben was four years my junior and I was twenty-two at the time.
We rolled across the carpet each trying to get the other in a hold. I felt his cock pressing against my back as he wrapped his arms around my chest and neck. I wiggled my way out of the hold and twisted my body, finding myself looking straight down at his semi-erect penis. Benjamin had a perfect cock. A little larger than mine. We were both cut. His father was Jewish and me, because in those days it was standard course for newborn males. I could smell the musty smell of his ass as we wrestled. Or was it mine? We worked up a sweat and soon lay on our backs completely out of breath.
"That was fun." he said.
"Yeah." I turned and looked at him with his arms outstretched and one knee up, his cock flopped over his hip. At that moment I realized that what I had been feeling for him was more than just brotherly love. I felt my cock begin to thicken. I jumped up and got into my clothes while he lay panting on the floor.
From there our friendship grew. He was over at our house a lot and grew close to my wife too. One night after my wife had gone to bed, he suggested we give each other massages. Eventually, we were naked on the living room floor rubbing oil onto one another's backs, asses and legs. When I turned over I was hard. Nothing happened that night, but we both knew it was a matter of time.
Summer came and with it the warm weather. He lived with his parents still and one day when they were out of town he invited me over to lay in the sun with him. Benjamin was beautiful. He had thick wavy brown hair that was a little long and a smooth tight body with moles. I loved to trace my fingers across his body from mole to mole playing connect the dots. We lay naked in the backyard on our stomachs, both of us hiding our erections. Our faces were turned toward one another and our eyes met. We acquiesced to the inevitable. I leaned towards him and we kissed. We joined our oily sweaty bodies together, rubbing our cocks together. I took him into my mouth as he moaned softly. While he lay on his back, I jacked his dick until he came on his stomach. It probably only lasted ten minutes from the time we kissed til he came, but it felt as if time stood still. He jumped up and ran into the house. I waited for five minutes feeling awkward and embarrassed and then put on my shorts. Eventually, he came back outside, wet from the shower.
"I feel so dirty." he said.
I felt horrible. I felt like it had all been me and I had made him do something he wasn't comfortable doing. I flashed back to when I was seven and after bathing with a family friend, I talked him into not getting dressed right away and tried to fool around with him when his mother walked in and yelled at me, making me feel ashamed of myself.
"I better go." I put my shoes and shirt on and left.
"An artist has always gotta be in the state of becoming"... Bob Dylan...
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