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Athens [M/m pedo]
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
i don't know who wrote this story, but it is a good one, and it
shows a real relationship between a man and a boy, not this
controlling crap that everyone seems to believe, well, here goes
oh, of subject, this story contains many reference's to the band
REM, i am in no way affiliated to the band, besides the fact that
i like their music.
insert standard disclaimer here
NEW POSTING: This story is a slightly revised version of the edition
previously posed on alt.sex.stories and at the nifty.andrew ftp site.
WARNING: The story that follows is about love, love between two intel-
ligent, consenting males. However, one of them is a minor. If the
idea of love and sex between an adult and a minor is distastful or
morally offensive to you, do not read any further. You will only find
yourself confronted. If, however, you are a boy-lover as I am, or if
you appreciate love stories regardless of their subjects, read on.
Love is all around you.
DISCLAIMER: This story is fiction, in all aspects a fabrication of
the author's mind. It does, however, take place in an actual Ameri-
can city, and certain aspects of the town and places in it have been
used. Purists will note that I have altered the town and it's his-
tory to suit the course of the story. Furthermore, nonfictional
people do appear briefly in the story, but their roles here are
purely fictional and are not to be construed as actual events in
their lives.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is free for the cyberspace community, and
may be freely distributed to newsgroups, ftp sites, and may be trans-
ferred amongst users free of charge, provided that the author is
given due credit, all introductory material remains intact, and that
the story is not altered in any way.
As always, please feel free to respond to [email protected]
with criticisms or comments of an organized and intelligent nature.
Flames and / or moral criticisms will be duely ignored. As I am an
amateur at the game of fiction, I'll need the help of as many
readers as is possible. So please, folks, write me a letter!
Tell me whatcha thought! :)
Finally, this story is dedicated to my friends, without whom
I would probably not be here and surely this story would not have
been possible. To D.G., T.M., C.D., E.D., J.G., O.N., C.W., C.C.,
C.O., T.S.P., and most of all to N.C., who more than certainly knows
why. And a special note of thanks to B.M. for his editorial comments
and corrections. They were very much appreciated.
Athens
Dorvis Slaughter
I'm really glad you came back. There's still a lot I want to tell
you, and I was afraid that we wouldn't get the chance, but here we
are. Ain't it great how life works? Anyway, yeesh. I have a story
to tell ya about the days of my youth. Well, not so much youth. I
mean, I was in college then, back at the old University of Georgia
in Athens, Georgia, but well, compared to now, I was young.
It was a great time then, back in 1982. Reagan had just begun to
fuck things up but good in Washington, and things in Athens were
seething. It seemed that the entirety of Clarke County was up
tearing Ronnie apart in words or in speech, and I was one of them.
Oh, man, you should have been there then. REM was still working for
peanuts playing gigs at the 40 Watt Club and living in the old church
on Oconee Street, the street where I lived. Peter Buck, their guitar-
ist, had just quit working at Wuxtry, the hippest record store in all
of the great state of Georgia. They were going up to Charlotte, NC
to record their first album, "Murmur." It would be released the next
year. The town was buzzing, things were happening and the University
kids, myself among them, well, we were so alive in ourselves, pissed
at our parents, of course, but living a life that was at the same time
both humble and grand.
The summer of 1982 was the beginning of it all for me, really. Sum-
mers in northern Georgia are wonderful things. The sun beats down,
but it is relatively dry. The bugs chip and whizzle in the kudzu
vines, which grows over anything that lays still for a day or so. And
things in the Summer, well, they're slow. Lazy. They take their
time. Summers in northern Georgia seem to enjoy their own company
and they aren't in any hurry to be rid of themselves, so the days
stretch to weeks, long meditations in the heat. And it was around
that first week of the Summer of 1982, in Athens, GA, that I met
Nicky, and that's when everything changed.
I had a relatively normal life. I mean, I knew that I was a boy-
lover, although it never would have occured to me to call myself
that. I didn't know any other boy-lovers, so naturally I couldn't
easily identify or put a fine point on what it was that I felt. I
had no one to sort it out with. I knew I was different from any of
my friends, those long-haired kids that grooved to Love Tractor at
Tyrone's on Saturday nights. But just what made up the matrix of my
difference I couldn't really say. It was just there, and like a good
Georgian, I accepted it, and didn't say a word.
And it was hard. Athens has always been a liberal town, very politi-
cally and culturally up-to-snuff, and I was very attracted to the
boys there, sons of the native Athenians and the professors. They
had a strange blend: a mixture of earthy Southern charm and a general,
all-encompassing savvy that belied their young eyes. When you're born
and raised in a sociocultural arena, you aren't like other kids, and
the Athenian boys were the exceptions to every rule. Starting at
around nine years old, they grew their hair out, became restless, and
their minds, soaking in the stimuli around them, expanded forming
thoughts and opinions that most older teens outside of town couldn't
even touch.
Nicky was one of the kids that I used to see all the time around at
Wuxtry. I worked there for a brief time, APB (After Peter Buck), but
-in that short time I came to know just about everyone in town. Wux-
try then was something of the Athenian apothecary. People came there
to get their fix. The Clash, The Pretenders, John Cougar. We had it.
And the new bands, too. REM, Pylon, the Flat Duo Jets, and of course,
Athens' home kids, the B-52's. Everyone had to admire the B's, even
if they were just a little embarassing, but hey, they were a success
up in New York, which was more than anybody could say for any of the
other punks around the old burg.
Nicky would always come in asking for the new stuff. And he always
came to me. Now, Athens is no different from any other college town.
All your Ann Arbors and Chapel Hills have this sort of bubble of
arrogance around them, and Athens did too. So more often than not,
you'd ask a sales clerk a genuine question, and you'd get a glorified
sneer in your direction. And Christ, that was never more practiced
than at Wuxtry. Ignorance when it came to music was a cardinal sin.
And well, when Nicky first came in, he was a sinner.
He didn't know much about the tunes. He wanted to know, he really
did. He wanted to be a part of all this excitement he saw the col-
lege kids indulging in, but being just a kid, he found it hard to
squeeze his way into the clubs, so he took his pains to Wuxtry.
Celia, one of the girls I worked with, laughed at him when he first
asked her what was new and good. I had noticed him as soon as he
came in. I was arranging the 'd' section of the 45's when he stepped
through the door frame. What struck me was just how perfectly pretty
he was. He was still a junior high kid, from the looks of it.
Twelve, maybe thirteen. It was a scorcher that day, and like most
of his friends, he had his grey t-shirt off and tied around his waist
by the sleeves. His hair was long all over, coming down in a lux-
urious swoop over his left eye, a condition which allowed him to
punctuate his sentences with a head flip, giving anyone privy to his
conversation, for an instant, a glimpse of both of his green eyes.
His hair, I judged, would normally be that mousy brownish blond
color that so lovingly graced my head, but the sun had done some w
ork, and streaks of blond coursed through it.
Anyway, Celia had laughed at him and went back to doing whatever it
was she was doing. Nicky kind of frowned, obviously dismayed, but
not too suprised. He surveyed the store, looking for someone else
who looked properly kooky enough to work there. His eyes met mine
across the floor, and I raised my eyebrows to let him know that he
did, in fact, have the attention of an employee. He kind of smiled,
flipped his hair, and bounced over to me.
"What's up?" I asked when he finally stood in front of me.
"Uh...hi."
My God he was pretty. His lips were full but taut, and sort of stuck
out in a perennial pout. His chest was soft looking and smooth, and
it glistened with the sweat that he had worked up outside under that
sun. But he didn't smell of sweat, he smelled, well, rather sweet,
like the sweetgrass in the fields outside of the town. Maybe he hung
out there, I certainly didn't know. He bit his lower lip slightly,
as if mustering up some courage.
"Uh...I'm just trying to find somthing new, ya know."
He speech was soft and slightly husky, and his words leaned and
sagged in a graceful southern drawl. Like the heat of summer, his
words had little desire to be rid of themselves. I surveyed the boy,
trying to get a general idea of what he might like, but you know,
this was Athens, it could've been anything from John Cage to the
Beach Boys.
"New? Just anything? Something specific?"
His eyes skitted around the posters and flyers taped around Wuxtry's
slightly claustrophobic interior. He brushed his hair away with a
hand this time, and his eyes looked into mine. "You know, something
cool."
"I can do cool."
And I smiled at him. I wanted to reach out and pat him on the
shoulder to let him know that I had no intention of tarring him and
throwing him out, but my words seemed to do it for me, for he relaxed
with a sigh and smiled. "Okay. All right, cool."
All the best things in Athens then were still on vinyl 45, and I set
the kid out the door with a handful of them. I tutored him for a
good half hour on the new bands and the new, different sounds they
were making, and he followed me around, listening to me as a pupil
would, his one visible eye rapt with attention, his head nodding with
every other sentence. His friends had all gone and left him there,
apparently giving up on him about fifteen minutes after they came
in.
About midway through his tour of the local 45's, I introduced myself.
"Oh, hey man, I'm sorry. I forgot." I outstretched my hand. "I'm
Emmet." He took my hand and squeezed.
"I'm Nicky." He smiled again, and it wrenched a huge grin out of me.
He had a great smile, one that lit up his whole aura. And he was so
fascinated with all that I was telling him, and just as fascinated
with the fact that I was willing to tell him, he was silent until I
cashed him out.
"Thanks alot, man," he said. "That's really neat, ya know."
I tried to see both of his eyes, but that was rather impossible.
"What's neat?"
He held the 45's up and smiled. "You know, these. And all that
other stuff. You know. It's just kinda cool, you know?"
My heart did this sort of dive and recover. He was just so damn
adorable there, shirtless, with that soft shock of blonde-brown hair
over his eye, and that...that smile. I reached my hand out again.
"I know, buddy. Hey, you know, anytime. Right?"
"Sure." He flipped his hair back and walked out the door.
Celia looked at me from her position at the next register. "Looks
like you made yourself a little friend."
I smiled. "Looks like it, doesn't it?"
I walked slowly down Jackson street. Anyone who knew me then could
have told you that this practice would get me killed, this walking
down the street with my face buried in a book. Back then, I never
went anywhere without some sort of novel or something, I really
didn't care what. If my attention went unoccupied for a second, the
book came out.
"Hey, bookworm!"
Two hands grabbed me around my chest from behind. I dropped my novel
and stumbled over it, spilling onto the sidewalk in front of the
camera shop. "Emmet! My god! I'm sorry!"
I looked up and saw, standing above me, my beautiful friend Eliza,
her hands covering her mouth, her face contorted in what I was sure
was a mixture of panic and an uncontrollable desire to laugh her ass
off. I stared at her for a second, shaking my head. "Great," I
said, finally breaking into a smile. "Just great."
"Emmet, my god, I am so sorry. I feel like a total moron."
"Yeah, well, you are."
I got up and immediately Eliza grabbed me in a hug. "I hope, after
all that we've been through, that you could find it your heart to
forgive me."
"Maybe."
That was enough for her. She pulled away, laughing. "Well, you
gotta admit that was funny as hell."
Eliza had been the first person I had met in Athens when I got there
from Macon in 1980. I dated her for a time, and when we both real-
ized we just weren't attracted to each other, it fizzled out. Her
next relationship was with a girl, as were all her subsequent ones,
so I figured that either I was her last stand before she totally
admitted to her homosexuality to herself, or it was just so bad that
she figured she might as well give up on men altogether. We had
remained friends since then, mostly because I could relate to her:
her acceptance of the card she was dealt was definitely an inspir-
ation, but what attracted me the most was her vibrancy, her total
resignation to the way things were. Nothing fazed her, not even
when I had eventually told her that I liked boys.
"Really?" She had gasped. "I would never have picked you as being
the gay type. I mean, Christ, you did wonders for me in bed." She
nudged my side.
"No," I said, calmly but with a definate tremor in my voice. "Not
men. I'm not gay, Eliza. I like, you know, young ones."
"How do you mean?"
I looked up at the trees in the quad, and around me, and we were
alone, just Eliza and I. "I think I like boys, Eliza. I mean, they
turn me on. In a big way."
Eliza was very calm and composed. "How old are we talking about
here, Emmet?"
I scratched a seemingly ruthless itch on my nose. "Uh..., you know." I
couldn't say it.
"No, I don't think I know."
I gazed into her brown eyes, eyes so brown they were almost black.
She wasn't making this easy for me.
"Well, I guess I like it when they're before puberty kind of. You
know, like eleven or twelve."
She sank back down against the tree. "Christ, Emmet."
"I know..."
She caught herself. "No. It's okay with me, kiddo. I mean, sex-
uality is one of the few things in this fucking universe that we
can't understand, but just be careful."
"Oh, I don't know if..."
"What attracts you to them? The boys, I mean."
I stopped, biting my nail. I just couldn't look at her, and I kept
my eyes on a squirrel that was digging in the dirt "I don't know."
"What?"
"I don't know. I mean, I've thought about it, thought about it a
lot, and I can't put my finger on it."
"You find them sexy, though, right?"
"Oh yeah, sure. But that's just a part of it. And in the grand
scheme, I think a rather smallish part. There's something there, I
don't know."
"Can I ask you a personal question?"
And I had to laugh at that one. "I don't think that I could get any
more personal" I chuckled.
Eliza smiled placidly, like a psychiatrist or a talk show host.
"Were you..."
I cut her off. "No, never. Never. No one ever touched me, molested
me, hurt me, abused me. Nothing."
"You've gone through this before, haven't you?"
"This conversation?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, about a gajillion times in my head."
"Have you ever done anything?"
"With a boy?"
"Yeah."
"No...no, never. I don't know if I would. I mean, lord knows I'd
like to, but...you know."
Eliza leaned foward and kissed me. "No, I don't know. But just be
careful, Emmet. I love you. Just don't do anything stupid. If any-
thing ever happens, make sure it's mutual, okay?"
"Oh, god, I could never force anything on anybody. I'm not a moles-
tor, Liz."
"Shhh..shhh. I know you're not, Em. I would never think that you
were. But just...you know, make sure that you and...your partner...
both have clear heads." And she smiled at me.
"As clear as yours?"
"That, lover, would be impossible." And we hugged and held it for a
long time.
And so anyway, Eliza and I were standing in front of the camera shop
and I was doing my best to brush the dust off my clothes, but it
didn't seem to be working. Eliza was still giggling a bit under her
breath. I kept shooting dirty looks at her, but she knew I wasn't
serious.
"So what did you drag your sorry self out here for anyway?" I asked
her, my tone more jolly than anything.
"Well, I just wanted to see if you wanted to come to Tyrone's with
me tonight. Pylon's playing."
"No shit, really? Damn...I'd like to, Liz, but I'm busted. Really,
babe, I'm flat 'til Thursday."
"What's the matter? Wuxtry not floating the boat?"
"Yeah, right. Not on what they pay me."
"Well, that's never stopped you before. I'll float you this time if
you want. Meet me there, okay?"
"Yeah, sure. You got it. Pylon's great."
"You think I don't know that? The show they played the other week
with REM was not to be believed. Down at the 40 Watt. Me and
Michael are starting to really get to know each other, too. He's
really nice. Flaky, but nice."
"Michael?"
"Yeah, I don't think you know him. He's the guy who sings for REM."
"Oh, yeah, I've seen him around town, he comes into Wuxtry all the
time, but never talked to him. Kinda quiet, ain't he?"
"Yeah, he is. Got a great singing voice, though."
"Hmm."
"Well," Eliza said, snapping the conversation line, "I'll see you
tonight then, right?"
"Sure. Yeah, sounds great."
"Great. See ya."
"What time's the show?"
"Nine."
And with that, she walked away down Jackson Street, her flowered
dress blowing behind her in the dry wind of the Georgia summer. We
had talked about my love for boys many times after that first day in
the University of Georgia quad, and she had come to a very good
understanding of me and how I felt, and above all, I think she
respected it.
By the time 5 PM rolled around, the afternoon had waned to that tena-
tive time when it was nowhere near getting dark, but the daylight
was becoming stagnant and strained, like it was tiring out and
waiting for the darkness to get its ass in gear and relieve it of
its duty. I had been in a funny mood ever since I had run into
Eliza, mostly from thinking about that day on the quad, but also
making those plans put me in that state of listless waiting. You
know, the way you feel between the time you get up and the time the
Christmas party begins and you can open your presents. Just useless
existence, or so it seemed.
I had taken a walk out of town, down one of the numerous veins of
country road that surrounded Athens, passing some old abandoned homes
with yards overrun with kudzu, past large houses built for college
professionals. And dammit, I had forgotten my book. I hated that.
That meant that I actually had to occupy my mind with bonafide
thought, and well, you know as well as I do what that thought was.
Nicky. Yeesh. Ever since I had seen him earlier that afternoon at
Wuxtry, I couldn't get my mind off that beauty. He was so attentive,
so rapt with fascination over the facts that I was giving him. Music
history. The Sex Pistols, The Velvets. All the stuff he needed to
know, and wanted to know. I could see his green eye dance with the
possibility of it all, the other eye of course being masked by that
charming shock of soft blonde-brown hair.
And Eliza's year-old question kept coming back. "What attracts you
to them?"
I said it to myself aloud. "Emmet, what attracts you to them?" I
thought of Nicky, about what attracted me to him specifically. I
figured, hell, I'd narrow it down to an example and start from there.
Nicky... Well, yes, physically he was beautiful. Soft skin, hairless.
I was careful to spy on him reaching up for a record on a high shelf,
and there had been no hair under his thin arms. I had felt a surge
with that. Okay, so he was aesthetically beautiful. Was that all?
"No," I answered myself aloud. I mean, I saw at least twenty pretty
boys a day in Wuxtry and not one of them had joggled my psyche like
Nicky had. There was something more to it. Perhaps it was the way
he followed me, listening. Perhaps. But, I didn't even think that
was all of it. There was something behind his eye, that bright green
eye, that I couldn't put a finger on. Something that hinted at some-
thing else. A desire to know more? A curiosity? No, that wasn't
it. An...
"Oh, DAMMIT!" I cried out. And then I looked around to see if any-
body had heard me. No, of course not. Sound doesn't carry well in
the Georgia countryside. What isn't absorbed by all the greenery is
drowned out my the chatter of the insects. I was genuinely frustra-
ted. I looked down at my fists and noted that they were clenched.
"Christ, Emmet," I said to myself. "Get a grip." But my mind
thought back to Nicky. Nicky, Nicky. What was his last name? I
didn't know. I wondered just how old he was. I wondered what he
looked like out of his black jeans, if he was a virgin. And then I
actually sneered at myself. I felt utterly pathetic. He's just a
boy, man. Just some kid. Get a grip, Emmet, man, you're gonna lose
it. But I can't help it. I can't get him off my mind. Well,
you're gonna have to help it. What can I do? He's so beautiful,
so... Just shut up. You see? You should've brought your book.
And I walked back into town, back to Wuxtry where I would sometimes
hang out when I had nothing else better to do. Hell, everyone else
in town did it, why not the employees? Celia was the first to notice
me there. "You know," she sneered. "It's really sad when you're
here and you're not getting paid for it."
I blinked slowly and chuckled through my nose. "Tell me about it."
She laughed and began to walk back into the office when she turned
and said, "Oh, by the way, your little friend was in here looking for
you."
"Oh, I know. I ran into her on Jackson Street. We're gonna go see
Pylon tonight. Wanna come?"
"Huh? No, no. Oh, no, I've already talked to her. Yeah, she was
looking for you, too. No, I mean that kid you talked to today. The
blonde kid. He was looking for you. He wanted to talk about some
record or something he got today. Don't know what was up with it.
He said he'd be back later."
I licked my rapidly drying mouth. "Didn't you tell him that I wasn't
working 'til tomorrow?"
"Oh, no." She stretched and yawned. "Didn't even think about it."
And she disappeared into her office.
I stood there for a second, trying to comprehend just the general
kookiness of the whole situation. Ain't that a bitch? I thought.
And then I couldn't help but smile. He was looking for me. I
weighed each word. He...was...looking...for...who? Who dear lord?
Me!
"You gettin' lucky or somethin' tonight?"
I turned around. The blurb had come from Hamilton, the definitive
Georgia college yokel. He had come from a piss-poor white trash
family on sheer brain power, and everything, from his long, stringy
hair to his embarassingly thick accent gave no clue to the hyper-
genius underneath the hickish image he projected.
"Huh?"
"Sorry, buddy, but you look plum stupid."
"Huh?"
"Huh?" he echoed. "Huh what? You're standing there with the stupid-
est grin I ever done seen on your face. What's up with that? You
just get some pussy?"
I laughed at that one. "You're always so fucking eloquent, Hamil-
ton." And I walked away, smiling.
"Yep, that's why I make the big bucks," he drawled at my back.
"Too bad you're jobless!" I yelled back and stepped out of the door.
Dammit! I thought to myself as I trotted down the street Dammit! I
missed him! I missed him. But you didn't know he was gonna come
looking for you. Oh fuck you, I missed him. But he said he was com-
ing back, you know. Huh? Remember, Celia said he was coming back.
Wait for him. I could do that. Yes, you could do that.
And like a Nazi, I did a two-step 180 degree turn back in the direct-
ion of Wuxtry. I planted myself on the sidewalk outside with my back
against the building and my legs folded against my chest. And I
waited.
After ten minutes or so Hamilton came trotting out, noticed me on the
ground and stood there, his legs apart and his hands on his hips.
"What the livin hell is the matter with you?"
I looked up at his hulking shape. It was a lot cooler in the shade
he provided, but it didn't smell any better. "Not a goddam thing."
"I'll tell you one thing, Emmet, you're about fucking weird, if you
ask me." And he dashed off down the street, his greasy long hair
flopping against his back with each step. I watched him walk away.
He got as far as the corner when he turned and faced me, his right
arm in the air, waving. "Puuuuuuusssssyyyyyyy!"
I just shook my head, folded my arms, and laid my head down.
"Who was that?" a voice said.
"Just an asshole."
"Ain't you workin'?"
And I looked up, and there he was. Nicky. Still shirtless, in those
black jeans, looking down at me in the early evening sun. "Hi!" I
said. "Nicky, right?"
"Yep." And he sat down next to me. Well, that was unexpected, I
thought. "Why'd he say 'Pussy?'"
I chucked at hearing the boy's voice form that word, pussy. Just
wasn't used to it, I guess. "I dunno. I think he's under the im-
pression that I got lucky or somethin'."
The boy flipped his hair and smiled. Dammit! That smile, Gawd!
"Did you?"
"Did I what?"
"Get lucky?"
"Oh!" I must have been blushing. "No, no I didn't."
Nicky chuckled, a high succession of little laugh bursts. God, he's
so damn charming. "Oh, okay." He was still smiling. "I just, you
know, wanted to come back and say thanks and all."
"Thanks?"
"Yeah, you know, for today and all."
"Well, it's my job, ya know."
"Yeah, well, it's everybody's job, but nobody does it."
"Well, not everybody's as cool as I am."
Nicky flipped his hair back and with his hand held it back. I fell
into his eyes, two pools of pure truth and emotion. And, my god,
this was just on a sidewalk! "I know," he said. "I mean, you're
nice and all, and you know a lot about music and I really don't. I
mean, I'd kinda like to learn about music and stuff, 'cause when I
hear it I really dig it, I think it's cool, but I don't like to just
go pick up anything."
"Well," I said, "that's kind of the point to it all. You know, just
going and picking up stuff. Testing the waters, like."
"I really can't afford to do that, though. I mean, I don't like
everything."
"Do you have a job?"
"I mow people's lawns sometimes."
"Oh, okay."
We sat there in silence for a few seconds. He was looking at street
activity, the very different people walking up and down, but I, I was
looking at him. What a beautiful, beautiful boy. He had come back.
Come back to thank me, and to ask me more. He had come back to see
me. Me. This boy. This beautiful, charming boy.
"Tell you what," I said, trying to sound spontaneous. "If you want,
everytime we get a new shipment of new stuff, I always pick it up,
regardless. I got so many records at home it ain't even funny. If
you want, you can borrow some, you know, see what you like. And if
you like it, you know, come buy it."
"No kidding?"
I was overflowing with just pure, indescribable joy. This boy, in
that instant, had become my friend. "Sure, kid. No problem." And
I reached out and ruffled his hair. The second contact we ever made,
after the handshake earlier.
"That would be so incredible. Honestly. Oh, wow, that's great."
He was as happy as I was.
"You can come over anytime. I live on Oconee."
"Now?"
"Now what?"
"Can I come over now? And, you know, pick some out? If it's okay..."
Oh yeah. Oh fucking yeah. "Sure, yeah. Feel like walking?"
"Yeah. That's all I do."
"Okay, sure, come on." And me and my new friend walked up Jackson
street toward Oconee talking about the Velvet Underground, and how,
well, how they were the start of it all. And in the music of Wire
and Television you could hear their influence. Even Bowie had dedi-
cated a chuck of his style to them. And man, when Nico sang "All To-
morrow's Parties," you couldn't help but just get a chill up your
spine. She get's into your head on that one.
And the boy listened and learned and absorbed, and by the time we got
to my apartment on Oconee, he trusted me enough to tell me that the
first time he heard "Pale Blue Eyes" this afternoon, he cried so
hard, cried his beautiful eyes out. And he could do nothing but
smile then, when I said, "You know, that song could have been written
about you."
"But my eyes aren't blue."
"Yeah, but everything else is the same."
And he smiled again, oh god that smile, and in that instant I
understood what it was that was behind his eyes that had eluded me
so well this afternoon. It was something that I have always wanted
but so far had not been able to receive. It was understanding.
"Well, this is it. This is my place." I gestured grandly about the
room, revealing to Nicky his first sight of the most boring place of
residence anybody had ever seen. You see, I was living this sort of
pretentious art-school lifestyle (despite the fact that my major was
business), and I was cultivating this sort of minimalist thing in my
apartment. I slept on the thinly-carpeted floor (which for some
reason never caused me any discomfort), and had nothing on my white
stucco walls save for a mimeographed photo of J. Robert Oppenheimer.
Don't even ask me why that mimeograph was there. I don't think I
could even have told you who Oppenheimer was. Some drunk pal of mine
had stuck it thre one night and there it had stayed.
Nicky looked around. "Wow," he said. "It's really cool. Kinda
white, ya know?"
"Uh, yeah. I don't have much use for pictures, ya know."
"Who's the guy?"
"Who?"
"The guy, there. The paper." He pointed at Oppenheimer.
"Oh, I dunno. Some physicist or something."
"Oh." By now the boy was so used to Athenian quirks that he simply
accepted the strangeness as status quo. "Okay, cool."
By that time I was already digging into my refrigerator. "You want
something to drink? I got like three kinds of Coke here." In
Georgia, no matter the brand or flavor, all sodas are Coke.
"You got a Dew?"
"Yeah, sure." I fished it out of the Frigidare and handed it to
Nicky, who by then had aready discovered my closet of records, boxes
and boxes of stuff, stacked high. There hadn't even been room for
clothes. His eyes went from the boxes to mine, his head turning in
slow motion. "This is incredible...are these all yours?"
"Yep," I said, barely able to mask the pride. "They're mine."
Nicky approached the boxes like a relgious pilgrim to an icon. He
pointed up at the top box. "Can I?"
I couldn't stop smiling. "You want the top box?"
"Uh-huh."
I stretched up and god the box down with a grunt, and slam, dropped
it at Nicky's feet. Like a child at Christmas (well, he was as
child, I told myself) he tore the box open and began to go through my
collection. I went to the other side of the room and planted myself
in the huge green chair that I had bought from Sandy Phipps for $10.
I watched the boy go through each and every record in the box, taking
each out with surgical care, with each disc a soft "Wow..." escaping
his lips. I watched him for an hour, his form, his perfection. The
way he looked, the way he smelled, the way he looked at me. He
hadn't even noticed me sitting there, sitting there and loving him
with each passing breath.
As I watched him, something began to form and grow in the pit of my
somach. It was something totally new to me, although I recognized
its form. It wasn't desire. No, desire was asserting itself, but
that was a dull thrumming in the back of my mind compared to this
new sensation. This sensation, this longing, grew and began to
spread, to reach up and to grip my mind like a cancer, drowning out
everything else around it. I wanted to touch him, to stroke his
hair, to kiss him softly, so softly. I wanted to tell him that I
was falling undeniably in love, but god, I couldn't. These same
steel cords that gripped my mind in this relentless emotion were also
holding me back, laughing at my inability to do anything about it.
I wanted to cry out, to rip apart the mask I was holding up to this
boy, but I simply could not. And that's when he looked at me and
spoke.
"Can I play this?"
In his hand he held up a record, a white record with a huge banana on
its cover. The Velvet Underground and Nico. "You were talking about
this," he said. "I'd kinda like to hear it."
"Yeah, sure. It's right over there."
I watched him search for the power switch, find it, and put the
record in place. He looked back at me. "What song was it you were
talking about?" God, what song? There had been so many that we had
talked about. "You know," he said. "The one that gets to you."
"Oh, uh, that's track...six, I think."
And he put the needle down, it scratched for a minute and then "All
Tomorrow's Parties" began. A bass rising, then falling and crash...
drums, then John Cale's piano took the song and whipped it into the
air, flying up up and around the room, and Nicky was caught up in it,
I actually saw him wince when Maureen Tucker's drums crashed down.
When Nico's voice came out, came out like an alarm, he opened his
mouth in a wordless expression of disbelief. His whole perception of
expression was changing then, the way the thought that music could be.
No longer were they songs, but living breathing entities that grabbed
you, chewed you up, and spit you out. This boy was in touch the sen-
sual aspect of the music that was around us. he winced as the song
climaxed, and Nico, in a tone of utter finality cries out, "fit for
one who sits and cries for all tomorrow's parties." The boy was not
with me then, but somewhere else, somewhere else entirely, and I had
taken him there.
When the song ended, he opened his eyes. For the majority of the
song they had been closed. "My god," he whispered. "My god..."
I nodded slowly. "I know."
"I've never heard anything like that before."
"I know."
"How did you find that?"
"The music?"
"Yeah."
"I dunno. Someone played it for me once. And I had the same re-
action as you did. I was changed, man."
"But, god..."
"I know, man, I know."
For the first time he realized that he had felt something that he
couldn't express, and he was content with offering me a warm, liquid
smile. He had been through something amazing, and he was out the
other side. He couldn't look at things the same anymore. "Thank
you," he said to me. "Thank you so much, man."
"Take it with you, Nicky. The album, I mean. You can take it if you
want. To keep."
His eyes were still far away, but that brought them a bit closer. He
picked up the record jacket and looked at it, tracing the banana with
his fingers. "Oh, man," he whispered. "Oh, man."
I leaned back in that big green chair and closed my eyes and felt him
there, his entire presence so elated, so changed. In my mind I could
feel myself wrapping around him as the music wapped around us, loving
each other, this new and mysterious child. And he kept whispering
"Oh, man...oh, man..." It was though he was saying it right to me as
I caressed him and made him feel that transcendent feeling again, only
this time sharing it with him.
As the evening progressed, I made food and we sat on the floor listen-
ing to record after record, eating and talking. I learned more about
him: he was all of twelve. That was it. I wish I could remember
being so in-tune with things at his age. I learned that he lived
alone with his father, who was a kindly but older fellow that com-
muted to Winder every day for work, leaving him pretty much alone to
spend his summer as he pleased.
"How old is he," I asked.
"Who? My dad?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, he's like fifty-something I think. He's old."
"Where's your mom?"
Nicky shrugged. "Dunno. I kind of remember her when I was little.
But then she left. My dad said she kinda couldn't handle the pres-
sure anymore."
"Pressure of what?"
"Dad said the pressure of the married life. I dunno."
I thought on that. "Hmmm. Does it bother you at all."
The boy gulped another mouthful of Ramen noodles. One hung down off
his chin and he snickered and slurped it back in. "Naw, not really.
I mean, I never really knew her at all, so I guess if I had known her
or something I might've missed her, but you know, I didn't, so I
don't I guess. It kinda sucks, though, when I'm alone and I don't
have anybody to talk to."
"What about your friends?"
"What about 'em?"
"Do you have any?"
"Oh, sure, yeah. I mean, I got some friends at school that I hang
out with and all, but you know, they're just kids." He said the last
word with quite a degree of distaste.
I chuckled, mostly to myself. "And you're not a kid?"
He looked up. "Well, not like they are I don't think. I don't know,
I mean, they just like don't understand it when I go off on somet-
hing."
"Like what?"
"Well, like this, kinda. I mean, I can't talk to anybody, 'cause
nobody's serious enough to talk to. I dunno, like my friend Aby said
that I float away sometimes and I don't talk, but it's like when I
hang out with 'em I get so bored that I just start thinking about
stuff and there I go. I think about one thing and then another, and
like one leads to the other, ya know? And I just don't talk for like
hours and I guess they don't like it."
I leaned foward. "Hey, man. Listen. You can always talk to me, I
'll be here for ya. Anytime you wanna talk, gimme a call or come up
to Wuxtry or whatever. I mean, can I be your friend, too?"
Nicky smiled. "Well, I kinda thought you were."
"Cool," I said. "Cool."
After another hour or so of talking and laughing, I suggested to
Nicky that it might be time for him to get home, because there was a
good chance his dad was worried about him. I would've rather had him
call home, but, well, I didn't have a phone then, so that was out.
He looked at the clock: 9:36 PM. "Yeah," he sighed, rather crest-
fallen. "Guess it is."
He jumped up and I jumped up with him. I opened the door and step-
ping through it, Nicky turned to me and said, "Hey, would you walk
me?"
I smiled. I was hoping he'd say that. "Sure, kiddo."
And I stepped out with him, shutting the door behind me. I didn't
lock it. Back in Athens, then, nobody really needed to lock their
doors, because, well, nobody really had anything to steal. I mean,
if anybody really wanted to through all the trouble of getting out of
bed, brushing their teeth, getting dressed, walking over to my place,
casing it, waiting until I left to go in and steal my rare imported
7" single of "Anarchy in the UK," I figure they were probably pretty
well deserving of it.
I walked with Nicky down Oconee Street with my arm slung casually
around his bare shoulders. He was the perfect height for it, and
they felt so good, so soft, rippling when he'd point at something or
when he'd turn his head to look at me and smile. As we got into
town, I noticed that the usual summertime night life wasn't walking
and talking down Jackson or any of the streets. And then I saw the
light pole and a bright pink flyer. PYLON AT THE 40 WATT. BE THERE
AND WE'LL THINK YOU'RE COOL. JULY 13, 1982, 9PM.
I threw my head back. "Shit," I said into the air. "Shit, shit."
Nicky looked at me a bit apprensively. "What's wrong, Em?"
"Dammit," I said, and sighed. "The 40 Watt tonight. I was supposed
to meet up with Eliza there for the Pylon show."
Nicky's eyes dropped. "Oh...okay. I'll walk home if you wanna go."
"No!" I yelled out, rather startling the kid. "I mean, no, it's
cool. I'd rather walk you home, actually. I don't really like Pylon
very much." And I smiled at him, and he smiled back. "But," I con-
tinued. "I'd like to stop by there and tell my friend that I won't
be putting in an appearance."
"Cool, okay."
And we walked through downtown Athens to the 40 Watt, where I left
Nicky outside and went in to seek out Eliza. I found her there at
one of the few tables that were still in active use, sitting with two
guys and chatting as well as one could over Pylon who were thrashing
about on the stage like all get out. I recognized one of the guys as
Michael, the guy she told be about before. The other kid was a meek
looking character, with round glasses and just about the ugliest
teeth I had ever seen. He kind of reminded me of a rodent. I ges-
tured to Eliza and walked over to her, sitting in the fourth chair.
"Where the hell were you," she said, smiling. "And how did you get
in here?"
"I'm taking a friend home. I left him outside and promised Carl at
the door I'd be out in a second. I just came by to tell you that
I'm not gonna show up."
"Well, you're here, aren't you?"
"Well, yeah, but I'm leaving. Like I said, I'm taking a friend home."
I glanced at the other two guys. Eliza cought my glance, and real-
izing her breach of etiquette, she introduced me. Michael I had
already known from Wuxtry. He was studying something on the ceiling,
but what it was, I couldn't figure out. The rodent guy was Mike, she
said, and he played bass for REM, the band the Michael sang for.
After saying my hellos I brought Eliza's ear to my mouth. "Can we go
outside and chat for a sec? I don't want Carl bounding over here and
throwing my ass out."
She followed me to the door, but as we were about to step out, much
to the obvious delight of Carl the doorman, Eliza was snagged my
Annie, her girlfriend and lover of over a year. "Where ya goin'?"
Annie yelled over the band.
Eliza leaned to her. "Outside for a sec."
We stepped out into the night air. Nicky was waiting there for me,
his hands in his jeans pockets, the breeze tossing his hair around.
He looked so adorable. When Eliza and I turned around, we realized
that Annie had followed us. Eliza turned to her, said something into
her ear. Annie nodded and met Eliza's lips in a long kiss, then she
went back into the club.
Eliza bounced back over to me. "So what's up?"
"I just wanted you to meet my new pal, Nicky." And I gestured to the
kid standing six or seven feet away. She looked at him, looked at
me, and then back at him. I could see the hundreds of things going
through her mind, possibilities weighed, discarded. "Hi, Nicky," she
said, waving.
He waved and sort of blushed. "Hi."
Eliza's eyes came back to me. "What are you doing?" she asked softly
but firmly.
"It's not what you think, Liz. Dont' give me that."
"He's just a boy, Em. Think of what you're doing."
I looked back at Nicky, lest he hear, but he was too busy trying to
get a look at the band through the door and the crowd to even notice.
"Liz, it's not like that. I just met him today, we were listening to
music."
"Oh, Em, please be careful. I can see it, Em. You're in love with
him, aren't you? Oh, god, Em, please don't be stupid."
"I'm not stupid, thank you," I said, my tolerance beginning to crum-
ble. "Look, I know you're concerned, but it's nothing like what
you're thinking. Yeah, I dig him, sure, but I'm taking him home to
his dad, okay? He didn't want to walk alone."
"Emmet, just don't cross the line, man. I love you too much to lose
you to that."
"Lose me to what?"
"Em, I'm not you. I don't understand what you go through from day to
day. I don't know what it's like to be...what you are. But he's
just a child, man. Just a kid."
"Christ," I said, very disgusted with her. "You don't even know him.
He's not a child! In body, yes, but you didn't spend one of the most
amazing afternoons of your life with him, did you?"
"You didn't..."
"No, I didn't! Jesus, Liz. This boy is one of the most charming,
sensitive, caring people I've met. And I'm taking him home to his
father."
And with that, I left her standing there, outside the 40 Watt Club.
I grabbed Nicky as I went by and we crossed the street. "What's up?"
he asked. "You look mad."
"No, not mad, just a little frustrated with her, that's all."
"Why?"
I toyed with the idea of letting him know everything, spilling my
guts to him, but I didn't. "Oh, just stuff she thinks, that's all."
"Why'd she do that?"
"Do what?"
"You know, kiss that girl like that?" Nicky was looking at me now.
This wasn't an idle question.
"Um...well," I stammered, trying to find the right way to put it.
"They're lovers."
"You mean lesbian like?"
"Exactly. She's gay, Nicky. She likes girls."
"Oh..." Nicky seemed to be weighing the concept in his mind. "She
doesn't like guys at all?"
"Oh, well, sure she likes guys and all, but not like a boyrfriend.
Only as friends. Guys just don't, you know, do it for her."
"Oh."
There was a long silence after that, a silence that took us to the
edge of town were the streetlights stopped shining the way. The
Georgia moon spilled down on us, a bright oracle up there in the sky.
The stars were strewn across the bowl of the night like spilled
sequins. You could even see satellites up there, spacejunk. Little
dots floating in neat lines across the panorama. It was a perfect
night. And Nicky and I walked in the darkness, filling the void
there with our voices and our thoughts.
Nicky was the first to speak.
"I guess I just never seen that."
"What? The two girls?"
"Yeah."
"You best get used to it. Especially here. It's all over, gay
people. Bisexual people, too. I mean, people that like both sexes,
that's bisexual."
His next question was frank and direct, the way only a child can be.
"You ever done it? With another guy I mean?"
I closed my eyes and let his words ring and echo through my skull.
The boy was getting inside me now, and I didn't know if I could let
him in. Just answer the question, Emmet. Give him some truth. "Only
when I was a kid, about your age. I fooled around with my cousin in
Macon."
"Oh, yeah. I did that I guess."
I looked at him in the moonlight, the frosty glow on his bare back,
reflecting off his hair. He looked up at me then, too, and I looked
away. "When?" I asked him.
"Dunno. A while ago. What did you guys do?" It was plain to see
that this was his show, not mine.
"You know, just stuff."
"Like what?"
"Well, we kinda fooled around with each other's...you know, pri-
vates."
"You played with your dicks?"
I sort of caughed and laughed at the same time. I kept coming up
with the image of a movie comedian spraying wine out of his mouth
when someone asked him if he had B.O. "Yeah, I guess that's what we
did."
"Was it cool?"
"I thought it was cool, yeah." That seemed to please Nicky, that
answer. It was already admitted that he had fooled around, too, and
he had been validated.
"You ever done it with a girl?"
"Yeah, a few times."
"Is it cool?"
"You never done it?" I asked him, although it was obvious he hadn't. I
dunno, I just figured kids liked it when you were unsure of just how
experienced or inexperienced they were.
"Naw, which I guess kinda's slow for me."
"No, not at all. I didn't lose my virginity until last year, when I
was 19."
"Wow," he said, more as a statement than a declaration. "My friend
Aby's done it and he's only thirteen. I mean, he's told me about it,
and I heard him with his girl at a party once. They were really
goin' at it, too. In his bedroom. It was kinda funny."
I chuckled. "Yeah. Yeah, it would be."
"I dunno," Nicky went on, as if I hadn't said a thing. "Sometimes I
wish I could just do it and get it over with to see what it's like,
you know, but I like try to get girlfriends and they all think I'm
wierd."
"Well, you're not, man," I told him, by now I was petting his hair on
the back of his head. "You're a very good looking kid, and you're
gonna make a girl really happy one day. You may not know it, but
when girls get older, they like guys who can cry at cool songs."
"That ain't what Aby says."
"Fuck Aby," I said, and my voice was laced with distaste for this
Aby kid.
Nicky looked at me with a grin. "Naw, he's not my type." We both
burst into laughter and I brought him close to me, ruffling his hair.
He walked closer to me then, close enough to where my foreharm hung
down his chest, my thumb brushing his soft nipple every so often, and
whenever it did, I could feel it react to my touch, tightening.
"You're a great kid," I said to him. "Really. I don't think I've
quite met a kid like you."
We walked down County Road 8 past fields and forests of kudzu, talk-
ing all the way. He asked met things, brutal honest things, about
growing up, about life, about sex. I felt a lot of my young self in
him, growing up out here in the nowhere, wanting a friend, someone to
talk to. We got to the WATG tower and stopped. It was a tall pyra-
midal radio tower out in the middle of a kudzu field, with a little
gravel path leading up to the humming transformer at the tower's
base. The station itself was all the way over in Conyers, but this
was it's local relay, this tall sentinel with it's slowly flashing
red airplane lights.
"Come on, " he said, tugging at my shirt and running up the path.
"Come on!"
"What?" I yelled after him, and when he didn't answer, I followed him
up to the tower. When I caught up to him, he was under the tower
lying on the soft sandy dirt beneath him. "Here, do this. Right
here." And he scootched over to give me his vantage point. I laid
down on the dirt next to him and looked up. The point of the tower
on top glowed red with it's airplane light and it shone down in a
groggy rhythm onto us. "Here, put your head next to mine," he said.
"We can both see it."
I placed my head to his, feeling his soft hair against by cheek,
listening to his breathing softly in and out, in and out. "I used to
always come out here," he said, softly, half-whispering, "especially
when I was a kid. And I'd lay out here underneath the tower and
pretend that the light was a ufo. And it would come down and pick me
up and take me out and show me the universe like they did in Close
Encounters. I used to have one of those tiny like transistor radios
and since I was under the tower no other station could come in,
right? And I'd have it on, and they'd play neat stuff, like Patsy
Cline and Don Gibson, I remember, and I'd just lay out here and just
forget that I was me for a bit, you know?"
By that time I was propped up on my elbow, staring at his perfect
form. This beautiful boy, this pure spirit in front of me. I closed
my eyes. Do you know what you're doing to me? In you I see every-
thing I was and I've lost, everything that makes me glad to be alive
and to be a person on this earth. In you I can see the capacity to
love and to be loved. I'm falling in love with you, Nicky. No,
that' s wrong. I've fallen in love with you. I feel good next to
you, I feel special. Like I'm...oh...selected. Selected to share
in you. This perfect you. I mean, how could I have ever been
reduced to this? Why was I given this hand to play? Why couldn't I
be just like every other guy out there, like Hamilton even. But no,
no. If I had to choose, my perfect beauitful boy, I wouldn't have it
any other way.
And when I opened my eyes again, I was kissing him. I was pressed to
his soft, pliant lips, kissing softly, and he was kissing me back.
His hands were holding the sides of my face, and his tongue darted
out of his mouth and brushed mine. I breathed out and slid my tongue
into his mouth all the way. He moaned slightly and locked his arms
around my neck. My left hand slid over his chest, over his tiny,
silky nipples, making them hard. Over his smooth belly. I kissed
his neck, round down to his collarbone and back up to his face. And
as I kissed his face, I tasted the familiar salty taste of a tear.
I pulled back, trembling. "Oh, god...Oh, god, Nicky. I...I'm sorry,
I..." My voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper.
"Em," he cooed. "Emmet."
"I'm so sorry, Nicky, I didn't mean to..." And it was I who began to
cry. "I didn't even realize. I'm so sorry, Nicky."
"Emmet..." And I felt his lips on me again, on my face, taking my
tears. Over my forehead, down my nose to my lips again. "Emmet, I
love you. I love you, Emmet. I really do. Please don't be mad at
me, please. I don't mean to be a fag, man, I don't."
And the tears couldn't stop then for the both of us. We cried to
each other, for each other. I cried for me. I was a boylover. I
was going to go through my life for the most part lonely and
frustrated. I cried for Nicky, unsure, unable to be sure. I cried
for us, two lost souls together, realizing that they were both
completely and undeniably in love with each other.
"N-Nicky," I stammered out. I could barely talk. "I-I l-love you,
too. I l-l-love you more than you could ever imagine. From the
moment you walked into the s-store today (and god had it only been
today) I l-loved you. And my god, my god I do, Nicky. I have to
admit it, I do. I love you. I want you. I want to be with you.
I do."
Nicky looked at me, right into my eyes, his eyes never looking away
or faltering. He whispered, "Do you want to make love with me?"
And I couldn't lie to him. "Oh Christ, Nicky, yes. Yes I do."
I closed my eyes and felt him take my hand and place it on his belly.
"Make love with me, Emmet," he whispered. He whispered it so softly
that it almost blended with the night breeze. "Make love with me."
The blood rushed around my head, making me dizzy and sounding like a
train in my ears. I exhaled against his soft hair and ran my hand
from his belly to the buckle on his belt, unclasping it. It opened
with a cling, and that sound was the sound of a lock breaking, a seal
that bound me to everything therein. With the opening of that seal,
I was now this boy's lover, and he was mine. I kissed his shoulders
and pushed him down onto the warm, red, Georgia ground.
Everything moved slowly, like I was in water, no, like honey. It was
as if Nicky and I were togethere in a world of honey, and things were
warm and slow and good. From the boy's belt I unclasped his pants
and unzipped them. "Lift up," I croaked, and he raised his backside
from the ground. Slowly I pulled his pants and white underwear down,
down to his knees. I took the pantlegs at his feet and took them off
completely.
Nicky lay naked before me. Smooth and built up with farm muscle, his
body was hairless and tanned with sun. His penis was around four-
and-a-half inches long, very thin, and it stood up against his belly.
It was engorged with his blood, his sweet young blood, and was un-
believably rigid. His scrotum was beginning to flesh out with adol-
escence, and it was hanging under his penis looking a bit out of
place with the lithe proportions of the rest of his body.
I knelt next to him, running my right hand softly over his firm
thigh. "Oh, Nicky," I whispred. "You're beautiful. You're so
beautiful." I looked at him, into his eyes, which were a mixture of
a hundred emotions, all raging inside him. He looked back into my
eyes, trough them into me, into my mind.
Nicky.
=I can't believe what I'm feeling, Emmet.
It's so new.
=Is it right?
I think it is.
=Does this mean I'm gay, Emmet?
No, not necessarily. It means that we love each other.
=But we're both guys.
We're both humans.
=Do you love me?
Oh, god, I do. I do so much.
=But will you love me when we're done?
I will love you forever, Nicky. Don't you feel that?
=I do.
I could see it from the beginning.
=So could I.
It was in your eyes.
=It was in yours.
This is something stronger than anything out there.
=This is so serious.
I'm not hurting you am I?
=You don't think I'm wierd, do you?
Do you think I'm a molestor?
=Do you think I'm a fag?
Do you know how much I've wanted this?
=Do you know how long I've waited for this?
Do you know
=how much
I
=love
you?
"Take yours off," he said. And I slipped my shirt over my head. He
looked at my chest, at the small patch of hair on it that formed a
line on my belly down to my pubic hair. With as much grace as I
could manage, I slipped my sandals off and pulled off my pants and
underwear and threw them on the ground with his trousers. I was as
aroused as he was, and my own penis stood out at amost a right angle
to my body. My penis is about six and a half inches long, and nomin-
ally thick. Next to Nicky, it was rather large, and he stared at it
with a mixture of fascination, reverence, and an ever growing, ever
mutual lust.
At that moment we both wanted each other more than anything else we
had ever wanted before in our short lives. I rolled back onto my
knees and positioned myself over him, kissing his face, his soft lips
again. I kissed his chest, his nipples, down to his belly. I laid
my hear on his chest and felt his breath, deep and irregular swirl
into his lungs and out again. I laid my head there for a moment,
looking down at the object of my lust, his perfect, hard penis. I
reched out and petted it with my finger. I heard and felt a sharp
intake of breath when I touched the silky circumsized head, and a
small moan escaped him when I wrapped my hand around the shaft,
moving it slowly up and down, up and down. It was like I was
watching a movie that I could control. And I didn't want it to end.
I resumed my kisses by running my tongue slowly around his
bellybutton and then down to his pubic area. I could smell...could
smell him, a smell that in the years to come would become more
masculine, but was now still fresh, still boyish. Unable to resist
anymore, I raised his cock with my finger and took it into my mouth.
Oh, god... The feeling of him in my mouth was like nothing I had felt
before. I loved the way my lips conformed to every little ridge and
bump, how my lips could do one job and my tongue could do another.
Nicky squirmed and gasped, he moaned and signed with each little
motion I made. I let him side out of my mouth and went to his balls,
that soft hairless package that held so much of his burgeoning
manhood. I took one testicle into my mouth, caressed it, took the
other, then both. His moans were far more audible now. And down I
went, down to where the smell became slightly muskier. I could smell
a sweaty boy down there, mixed with the essence of sweetgrass that
followed him everywhere. "Spread your legs a bit," I whispered. He
did, revealing for me a soft pucker that was devoid of any waste.
Overcome, I dove for it, driving my tongue in and around it, savoring
the feel of the flesh of his buns around my face, the way his moans
had become an almost continuous low whine. I reached up and began to
masturbate him as I worked my tongue on his bud. It was incredible,
the most powerful and amazing sensation of my life. I came back up
over his balls to his proud penis and took it back into my mouth. I
felt his hands close over my head and he began moving his hips
instinctually now, fucking my mouth with savage strokes. I fingered
the slick, moist hole where I had just been. His whine had become
broken gasps. And then, it happened. He cried out, cried out in
pain and pleasure and lust and triumph. And he came hard into my
mouth, three fierce jets of fluid, hitting the back of my mouth,
sliding down my open throat. I moaned with him, sharing his passion
as the orgasm wracked him through, ripping through not only his
muscles but also his psyche, vibrating with the feeling of love as
well as lust, rising, rising, bursting forth, and then coming down,
slowly...slowly...slowly...and finally, resting in a pool of warmth.
Nicky's body lay quiescent on the soft ground, a light smile across
his lips. I flopped down next to him, panting in gasps and smiling
at him. He looked at me, his warm, naked boy at a point of maximum
relaxation. He leaned over and kissed me. "I love you," he whis-
pered.
I swallowed and whispered back, "I love you, too, kiddo."
Nicky explored by body with his hands, feeling for the first time the
body of an adult, actually seeing what puberty was going to eventally
do to him. He ran his fingers through the soft patch of hair on my
chest, then touched his own chest, and then back to mine. And then
he turned his attention to my penis, still raging from the wild lust
of a moment before. He wrapped his hand around it, sensing its
warmth and shape, sliding the skin up and down like he did to himself
so very often. With his other hand he cupped by balls and kneaded
them. His were going to be like that some day.
"Emmet?" he spoke, softly.
"Uh-huh?"
"Tell me before you sperm, okay?"
"Okay."
And I felt his lips enclose around my cock, taking it in bit by bit,
a perfect imitation of what I had done to him. His mouth was soft,
so soft, and I could feel the breath from his nose against my skin.
He used his hand as well, something I hadn't done. As he sucked, he
masturbated me along. I was swimming in passion then, reveling in
the incredible thing this boy was doing to me, doing for me. He had
me in him, of his own free will, making me shudder and moan, making
me feel better than I ever had. I felt the orgasm approaching and
croaked something out to him. He took his mouth off and masturbated
be to the most powerful orgasm I had ever had, or would ever have.
The sperm came out in powerful pulses and wouldn't end, an almost
endless supply of thin, milky fluid all over Nicky, over his chest,
over his face, over his cock, all over me. Some had gotten into
Nicky's gaping mouth, and he closed his mouth, tasting it. I cried
out his name once, twice, arching my back, and then, then...falling
back to earth, back down to the ground where this beautiful boy was
holding me in his soft, soft hands.
Just as I had done after I had made love to him, he laid down next to
me. I reached over, grabbed my shirt and began to clean the semen
off of him. He smelled of it. As I cleaned his face he leaned
foward and kissed me again, deeply. I could taste my sperm on his
tongue and could feel droplets dripping off his belly onto me. He
pulled back and grinned this time, an impish, childish grin.
"That felt good," he said, and giggled.
I giggled with him and soon we were in stiches, rolling on the ground
in an uncontrollable fit of laughter, the only cause being the love
and total joy of finding someone else with whom you could laugh about
just nothing at all.
We laid there for a long time in the Georgia night air, looking up
at the tower lights, and we imagined that it was a ufo from some
distant world, some far away planet, that has come for us, come to
take us away. He had even fallen asleep for a bit in my arms, but I,
I didn't sleep at all.
I kissed him when I put him into his bed later that night. His
father wasn't home, and probably wouldn't be until the morning.
Nicky said he was prone to doing that, disappearing for weekend with
a factory woman. I nodded my understanding.
We made love again that night in his bed, touching, exploring each
others bodies with our hands and our mouths. After we had come
again, this time together, we went into the shower, soaping each
other clean of semen under the warm water. As I was soaping him up,
he became hard again and I sank to my knees under the stream of
water. Sliding my fingers into his soapy crack behind him, I sucked
him there. He could barely stand. As I slid my tongue around the
shaft and head, I felt something cold on my scalp and his hands run-
ning over my head.
I let his penis slide out of my mouth and laughed. "What are you
doing?"
"I'm washing your hair!"
Oh god, I loved him. His skin went from smooth to slick under the
water and soap and I felt every inch of him. He came again in my
mouth, such a sweet taste. His young semen was still immature enough
to be devoid of sperm, retaining that lovely texture of boyhood
before it thickened up to become manly. He was perfect. The per-
fect, loving boy. And dear lord, he was mine. And I was his.
I held him for a long time before I left that night, and we both got
a little misty when I eventually did have to go, the morning light
rapidly approaching. We realized then that we were not innocent
lovers, that we knew that our love could never be public. It would
always have to be planned, to be schemed out. It could never be
spontaneous. We felt a loss there, but it was a small enough price
to pay for each other.
We loved each other for a long time, we still do even, although the
sex didn't last past his fifteenth birthday. Nothing was said, it
just stopped. And we both were content with that. He moved away
from Athens when he was seventeen to live with his aunt Beatrice
after his father died. It was a rough parting for us, but we
weathered it. I moved away from Athens soon after that, having
finally finished school. I moved to Orlando and now work as an
attractions supervisor at Walt Disney World. You won't believe the
boys I see from day-to-day.
It's funny, though, how everything changes. Life, and all that.
REM is now one of the biggest bands in the world. Can you imagine
that? I mean, they were just four guys my age when I knew them, and
now they're legends. And Mike doesn't look so much like a rodent
anymore.
Athens is different. It's still vital, but something is gone. It's
joined the club of the established scene, it's no longer groping for
an acceptance. And I suppose that happens to the best of them. But
the kudzu is still there, and so is the WATG tower. I drove by it
the other day when I went to visit Eliza, who, by the way, still
lives and works in Athens. I left my car on the side of the road
and walked up the path in the twilight to the tower where I had loved
Nicky for the first time.
There had been a lot of questions and guilt after that first time,
all on my part. Nicky was happy, beautiful and content to be my
lover and friend. But I, well, I questioned the validity of it all.
If I was really a lover or just a luster. All of that faded, though.
I did love Nicky, and when I see him now and hug him, I can still
feel that boy inside the man's body, and dammit, I can still smell
the sweetgrass.
I laid down on the ground under the WATG tower, where twelve years
before I had lost my spiritual virginity. And it all came back to
me, what had happened, what we did. I've had little boyfriends since
then, all between ten and fifteen, and even a short-term marriage
to a wonderful woman, but nothing reached to my very soul more than
that one day in 1982, where in the span of twelve hours, two strang-
ers became lovers and life-long friends.
I looked up in the twilight then, at the slow, groggy flashing
airplane light on the top of the tower, and I dreamed that it was a
ufo, from some far and distant planet, that had come, come to take
me away with it again.
--
Dan Mc Kowan, smoker, magic player, delta upsilon pledge, and god
GU -d+ H+ s+:+++>s+:++ g+ p1 au- a19 w+ v--- C-(+++) UL P? L+ !3
E? N+++ K W M-- !V po- Y+ t+ 5- j++ R g+++>++++ tv++ b D+ B--- e+
u+(**) h++(!) f !r n--- y+(**) did you get all that?
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