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This is a work of fiction.
I am bisexual. I suppose the only thing that sets me apart from millions of other bisexual men could be the fact that I have only ever had sex with blonds.
Every Blond-Clark
Clark lived just a few miles from my house. He had a few horses, cows, sheep and goats. It wasn't a huge farm, more like a good excuse to go outside. He was tall for his age (13, a year younger than me), very thin (lithe, if you will), and so blond that you could barely tell he even had body hair. We always played hockey on his pond in the winter and we would jump in for a swim as soon as the ice had thawed after winter (I shudder to think what a morass of bacteria that farm-pond must have been).
Clark had two--very worldly--older sisters. Unlike him, they were midnight brunettes. Where Clark took care of the horses, the sisters rode them like old trucks. They were just like that, brutal and wanton (so I guess it's good this romance was short and sweet).
It began when I agreed to help him restore his antique tractor. It really isn't as weird as it sounds. Really!
He had a creeper. I was fascinated with the creeper. A creeper is just a common garage tool that lets you lie on a padded tray with wheels. It let you lay on your back whilst propelling yourself to and fro under a car or whatnot.
There was really no call to use a creeper for such a large tractor (not gigantic by today's standards, quite large, nonetheless), but I could lie on the barn floor, hand him tools from the tool-box and stare up his shirt while he was leaning over me. Clark had the most incredible abdomen. It would be either flat, or saggy-round, but when he put some muscle into turning a wrench, his muscles really stood out. He could go from looking almost scrawny to six-pack instantly. He spoke about carburetors or fuel lines or some such and I spoke back about wanting to be an exchange student. It was a sorta-dysfuntional-Nirvana for me.
When the weather got warmer, he started to wear loose cut-off denim shorts. I would lie on my back, staring up Clark's shorts wondering to myself 'what's on the other side of that thin, white cotton?'
A day or two later, I just reached up and stroked that thin, white cotton.
He giggled. I mean he giggled like--well, I'm not sure exactly--like it was the first time he was ever tickled or something.
"You like that" he said, and it was not a question.
"Humm?" I replied.
"I'm not stopping you." he breathed. I don't know exactly how many times his sister watched us have sex, but a barn can be a very porous venue... lots of cracks for eyes and all that.
I had his shorts off in seconds. He was standing over me and the sunlight streaming through the cracks between the plank walls made him glow. He glowed golden. His hard dick was small and spectacular. His pubes were almost yellow and his balls were perfect chestnuts. He had an aura that shifted from gold to silver and back when he turned his body.
Mere words do not do proper justice.
I started rubbing his circumcised cock. He took my hand and pulled me up from the creeper, toward the ladder to the hayloft, kicking off his shorts and tighty-whiteys, giggling, and tossed them over his shoulder.
Watching a nude person climbing a ladder is interesting. Climbing a ladder under Clark and looking up, under his billowing T-shirt was fascinating. That flat belly, to muscled stomach, hard dick bumping the ladder rungs. It was pure artwork.
I do not like heights. There's something about them that makes me want to jump. I was drawn up the ladder by watching Clark's body. I almost had a bit of a panic when I realized we were at the top. Clark dragged me up the awkward transition onto the loft and lead me to some straw bales (which I will swear I was pulling out of my skin for days).
Clark had a lot of questions. My only experiences to date were with Mitch and Ty, so I had answers which I simply made up. Absolute fabrications.
"Can you come?" he asked.
"Grab it and find out" i replied.
"Ew! No, you do it." he responded.
"I can, and will, but it will be quicker if you do it."
The moment he touched my dick, I was in a little part of heaven reserved for those who clamber up ladders staring at dicks. His hand was rough with callouses but honestly gentle, he spent a long, long time--on his knees--staring at my urethra, waiting for me to cum while I was lying on those straw-bales. Call it performance anxiety. I wished he had just sucked me, put me in his mouth. He did not.
Clark jacked me up to heaven and back--several times. I think we went around the sun twice that day. He giggled when I came and rubbed my sperm on his hand... kinda weird.
I sucked his dick and he came for the first time. He was saltier than Ty, just as musky. For the few short weeks we were together, I was in Nirvana with him at every opportunity. I really did neglect Ty during this time, but it was worth it.
Had it not been for his sister spying on us in the barn on some day, we probably would have continued. Neither of us trusted her and we just avoided each other after that until he moved away months later. It was the younger of his sisters and she wanted me for herself, but I just wasn't interested in her. His mom was very religious and sort of weird, so I can appreciate what he must have gone through if she had told his parents.
I have run into him a few times over the years since then. He's divorced with several kids. But, for him, sex between us was just a young, teenage, thing. His body looked great, but he was more of "get the sex done" kind of person and not a very considerate lover. It was still great while it lasted.