Olivers Adventures

OLIVER'S ADVENTURES

(Chapter 2 - Class Trip)

by Donny Mumford

It's painful recalling my history with Tyler and the tragic accident, and the difficult time I had dealing with it, but now I'm looking forward to a life after high school. The past is in my past. First thing on my agenda is my class trip with the senior class to Philadelphia, then final exams and graduation. I'll need to give the valedictorian speech, so I'm not looking forward to that. Then high school is over for me, and good riddance too. My brother Christian's moved out of our house and I hate to see him go, but he wanted his own place now that he's working. I can understand that, but it'll be lonely around here without him. He's got this cool apartment in town, near his office. He gave me a hundred dollar bill in a goofy card and on the card he wrote, 'Hi Oliver, here's a little extra spending money for you on your senior class trip. This is NOT your graduation present; you're lucky enough to have a handsome and rich big brother (haha) who is

careless with his money and who's buying you something wicked expensive for graduation! Oliver, this is a day for decisions!!!! Or is it? Love, Christian.' I laugh at that because his last comment is teasing me about my indecisive nature. The last time he mentioned my indecisiveness, I said, "You say I'm indecisive, but I don't know about that, maybe I am and maybe I'm not." Actually I'm making a conscious effort to go with the flow and not be so indecisive, but it's a struggle at times to do that. As far as the money thing goes, Christian was only half kidding about being rich. At age twenty-four he's already making really good money. His job's in the computer programming business, so he's a little fat with cash, but not rich. He described his job to me a while ago, and frankly it sounds boring, but he gets paid a lot and he claims to love the work. So as far as I'm concerned, if he's happy then I'm happy for him. The senior class trip is a three

days and two nights affair, and as I mentioned the trip's only interest for me is that I'll get to visit the University of Pennsylvania. My plan is to walk around the campus and maybe meet some students. That's where I'll be going to college in the fall and I can't wait to start that new part of my life as a college student. It even sounds cool, college student. Since the high school part of my life didn't go well at all, and the middle school part was pretty much ruined when my best friend, who I loved with a passion, died in a horrible accident, I need a new start with this university opportunity, and I intend to make the best of it. I keep Tyler in a very special place in my heart, but I've been struggling to move on to the rest of my life for years now, and it's finally near.

In school I get

my information package for the trip in a big manila envelope stuffed with brochures, directions, schedules, meal vouchers, rules, lots of rules, and the pre-registered key for the hotel room. Too bad I couldn't find anything in that envelope about me checking out every nook and cranny of the University of Pennsylvania. Of course, first I need to find out what a 'cranny' is before I can check it out. The hotel room key looks more like a credit card than a key. Also listed on the front of my envelope, along with my room number, is my room mate's name, Mr. Degenerate. He's been out of college just a year now working as an assistant guidance counselor at the high school. I need to share a room with one of the chaperons, and isn't that special. Being the only kid in my class who isn't rooming with another kid, and maybe somehow that can work to my advantage although I can't imagine how. The night before our trip

I let

my imagination get the best of me by focusing on the fact that Mr Degenerate squeezed the back of my neck when he told me he'd be my roommate. Not just the neck squeeze, but also his comment about sleeping in our own beds, 'If we want our own bed'. He'd given me some kind of meaningful look too, his eyes opened wide and eyebrows up in kind of a smirk. I couldn't make head nor tail of it unless he thinks I'm gay. Hard to imagine a guidance counselor would be so stupid as to try something with one of his students. I am gay, but how would he know, nobody else does. Mr. Degenerate is young looking and I guess he's nice looking too, if I want to be fair about it. To be honest, I'm absolutely desperate for some kind of gay sexual outlet, but I'm not desperate enough to get in bed with Mr. Degenerate. Nope, not that, I need to find out about my sexuality with a boy my own age, although maybe I should keep an open mind about

that.

Getting to sleep isn't happening because I'm playing with myself right now, as I so often do. I usually need at least one good wank every night before passing into the sleeping part of the evening. Over the years, to assist with my wanking, I've concocted many fantasies involving cute boys from school. As far as I can tell, none of them are gay, but that doesn't stop me from fantasizing about them. In my elaborate fantasies I've fucked and been fucked by at least fifteen different class mates. It makes me wonder if sex is too much on my mind, but what's normal anyway? If the chance presents itself in the future, my promise to myself right now is that I'm taking advantage of it because I've been deprived for too long now. I'm gonna go wild, dude. In addition to boys in my classes at school, I have also been fucked, in my mind, by

supermarket

bag boys with buzz cut hair, and

newspaper boys with curly dark hair, and kewl dudes walking in the mall, and a boy I passed in the street with a Mohawk haircut. Variety is the spice of life! Oh yeah, in my imagination, I'm a real hot slut and maybe I'll be one in real life sometime for real. For now, I'm rocking solo with my cock or in my mind with my fantasy boys. At times my cock has been so sore I've had to completely shut down my imagination. Unfortunately, on this particular night no amount of forced fantasy can get me hot for Mr. Degenerate. I'm hoping maybe a young, real cute bell hop at the hotel will get me sexually excited. Why are they called 'bell hops'? So much to learn, but I'm getting wacky now because I need sleep; but first, how many real gay experiences have I had in my nineteen+plus years? Hmmm? Well lets see, if I include older man, boys my age, plus all the younger boys, the total would be, all together, exactly

none. Not even one

little mutual jerk-off. Well, an old guy did touch my dick once when I was taking a wiz and I immediately ran away from him. That experience was the first and last in my portfolio of homosexual adventures. Yeah, but have I ever been yearning for something gay to happen to me... and I mean for as long as I can remember! It hurts like a bruise; I mean the longing and constant yearning, it's mentally painful. I'm hoping to find a real gay boy at college. He's going to be one lucky fellow, let me tell ya! And except for a few minor hindrances; such as I'm wicked shy and lack self confidence, and can't make a decision, and oh yeah I stutter; except for those few drawbacks, I'm going to be taking that gay college scene by storm. Well, maybe 'storm' isn't exactly the right word. What would be the right word for someone tip-toeing around in the closet like a little mouse? That's would be the word for me.

Forget these realities! They're not turning my dick on at all so I need to think about something more sexually stimulating, like that boy I bumped into at the pizza shoppe earlier today. Now that's reality with some fire power because this kid was cute. He may have been sixteen, no older than that. He had real cool black spiked hair to go with his bad boy cute looks. I walked right into the front of him and our faces rubbed together; it really was accidental. Jesus, his skin was firm and smooth and he smelled boyishly good so I let the tip of my tongue slide across his cheek and I almost peed my pants I was so nervous when I did it. The boy was sweet though and took all the blame for us running into each other. He didn't even mention that I licked his face. Of course I went right home and jerked off. Okay! That real life memory finally did it for

this night

'cause I'm wicked turned-on from thinking about the pizza shoppe

boy and I get into a great jerk-off. Pizza boy is so yummy! After a great hand job, cuming in my sweat sock, I'm able to fall off to sleep with a smile on my face. The next morning is senior class trip day. My mom and dad are in the habit of treating me like I'm a ten year old and today they're treating me like I'm heading off to my very first boy scout camp, or something like that. It doesn't surprise me at all because they love me and mean well, and I've had my problems dealing with life growing up, so the concept of me actually growing-up hadn't reached their brains yet. Oh hell, they're sincerely concerned for me so I'll endure the hugs, kisses, and the corny advise they offer. My luggage for the trip is a soft sided satchel and a small back pack, so I'm able to walk to school. Mom or dad dropping me off is not an option although we argued about it. On the way to school I dump the lunch bag with my name on it that mom

insisted I bring along. The buses for the trip are stopping at a Burger King

for lunch; I'd read that in our instruction packet, but this information carried no weight with mom. Mom goes, "I packed you a nice tuna sandwich lunch with a slice of cake and an apple, Oliver." Right! Just what I need. I'll fit right in eating my bag lunch while everyone else is chowing down on cheeseburgers and fries. Still, it made me feel guilty to just toss mom's lunch in the trash, but what else could I do with it? Damn! So many things give me a guilty conscience.

I'm wearing my iPOD headphones to discourage anyone talking to me during the four hour bus ride and I'm praying Mr Degenerate is not riding on my bus planning on sitting next to me. Please dear God, give me one break. My plan is, once we got to Philadelphia, to ditch Mr Degenerate and everyone else; basically I'm on a University

fact finding trip all by myself. The rest of them might be on a senior class trip sightseeing all the historical sights and whatever else is planned, but I going to be thoroughly checking out the University and, perhaps more importantly, I'll come across some kind of gay activities, or gay hang-outs, or something along those lines assuming they exist. When the buses pull out there's no Mr Degenerate or anybody else sitting with me. I have a seat to myself so I'm considering giving God another chance as long as he continues this trend of making my prayers come true. A four hour bus ride lay ahead of me and some might groan about that, but I'm looking forward to it. For one thing, the unique bus motion always causes me to spring a boner and boners are fun. I also like to look at the world as it goes by my window. Every person I see passing by has an entire unique life story all their own, one that's intertwined with

other people, and their entire life stories. Makes me realize how little any of us know about what is going on every second of every minute in every nook and cranny on earth. There's that fucking 'cranny' thing again. I need to check that out. As expected, after almost three hours we stopped at a Burger King. Unfortunately we're the third bus to do so and many kids are in line ahead of us. Each bus was suppose to go to a different Burger King, or similar fast food joint, not to the same one. But when one bus pulled in to the first Burger King, the others followed. Duh! Of course there is no extra service staff inside to handle this totally unexpected volume of business. I look out the bus window at the hundred or more kids in line already, and can't help but think about the tuna salad sandwich and the other things in the lunch bag, the one I threw away this morning. I refuse to get

pissed-off though, I'm enjoying the ride so far and I'm not real hungry anyway.

Staying on the bus I switch my iPod selection to Plain White T's and listened to my favorite song by them, "Hey There Delilah", an oldie but goodie. And their next song that has lyrics I think are funny, 'Hate is too strong a word, but I really, really, really don't like you!' I listen to the entire CD and by then the food line is almost to the front door of Burger King, so I get off the bus and sauntered over to stand at the back of the line. A few minutes later two chaperons from another bus come up to stand behind me. They're talking about Mr Degenerate and from what I can make out, he would have been on my bus, but he got in a car accident on his way to school this morning. He isn't going to make any part of the Senior Trip. My eyes get big: does

this

mean I'm totally on my

own? My own room and my own agenda? The possibilities! That's all I'm thinking about the remainder of the bus ride. All kinds of possibilities that maybe have opened up for me now that Mr Degenerate is a 'no show'. We arrive at the Philadelphia Holiday Inn an hour behind schedule because of the Burger King screw-up and now everyone's congregated in a too-small conference room for the introductory meeting. Attendance is taken by a parent, chaperon, or teacher; each in charge of different groups of students. I'm part of Mr Degenerate's group so I join that group that's now been reassigned to a parent chaperon. Three-hundred and eighty kids have their names called in one group or another and each kid yells out that they're present. It's noisy and confusing with twelve people calling out different names at the same time. They'll be a roll call each morning and each night, but my name is

never called, and never will be called. Not in Mr Degenerate's reassigned group, or in any other group. This incredible good luck pleases the hell out of me. It didn't totally surprise me that my name doesn't appear on anyone's list because I figured, since I was to be in the same room with Mr Degenerate, he'd know if I was present or not so why would he need to put my name on a check list?

Okay, it looks like God is trying very hard to get back on my good side; first the pleasant bus ride without an annoying talker beside me and now this! This extraordinary piece of fantastic good luck. Mr Degenerate suffered a broken ankle I hear, and thankfully it's not too serious. The bottom line is I'm on my own and in my own room. Pinching myself to be sure it isn't a dream, then I go up the elevator to check out my room. The

credit-card-key works just like they said it would so that's a good start. The only disappointment so far is that the bell hops I've seen aren't cute or young, so screw 'em! I carry my bags to the room. The room's small, but nicely located at the end of a long hall, on the third floor next to a stairwell, so I don't really even need the elevator. There's a double bed and a pull-out sofa which I won't be needing now. I'm planning on sneaking in and out using the stairs while doing my best to avoid all contact with the high school senior class trip. Totally on my own now, like I usually am. It's the middle of the afternoon on a chilly gray day as I walk out the side door of the hotel and head to my right. Ten blocks, walking slow, I'm looking at the tall buildings and the crowds of people all hurrying to get some place. It feels weird being here alone in the big city. It's all totally new to me being from a small

suburban neighborhood.

I'm wearing the same back pack I wore on my bicycle rides, and one of the thins in my backpack is a map of Philly I'd gotten from my trip packet, plus instructions on how to use the public transportation system. Also in the backpack is my iPOD, a sweatshirt that says on the front of it 'Sarcasm is one of my specialties', and two bottles of water from my hotel room. There's money in my wallet, including the hundred dollar bill that Christian sent me, and I can't think of anything else I'll need for exploration of the university campus.

The University of Pennsylvania is far enough away that I'll need to take the elevated train, which might be fun. Initially it's a challenge figuring out which is the right train to take, but I'm smart so my brain, plus a little old lady, got me on the correct train. The little old lady told me which train to take actually,

my smarts came in when I took her advice. She'd noticed me scratching my head

looking at the map of the elevated train system, which is wicked confusing. The university is a ten minute walk after the train ride and before I realized it I find myself on the University of Pennsylvania campus. Lots of huge, old, brick buildings and many statues in landscaped areas covered with pigeon shit. The buildings are often covered with ivy that grows up the walls and, of course, there are a lot of college age kids with back packs and armloads of books hustling and bustling around. It's hard to tell if some of the

buildings are part of the campus or if they're offices and apartment buildings. This inter city campus is spread out over a number of city blocks. The center of the campus with the sports stadium, field house, and crisscrossing brick sidewalks, one of which leads me to dormitories and all types of class rooms. All the students I've noticed leave no doubt it's a University, but when I walk a few blocks away from the center of things I'm not at all sure I'm still on the University grounds. Well, this is exactly why I'm here: to explore, familiarize, and conquer the University of Pennsylvania. And to try hooking up with a cute gay freshman who will fuck me, that too. Then the cute freshman will show me everything I need to know about the university and then fuck me again. Right! I'm soooo sure.

I explore the area by walking a

number of blocks away, trying to determine where the campus actually ends. It isn't too long before I feel certain I;m no longer on the campus because the buildings start looking run down and seedy. With each ensuing block the buildings look in worse and worse shape, and while I've never thought of myself as having a prejudice against people of color, I need to admit my experience with them is very limited. There were two black kids and a few Hispanic and Oriental kids in my high school class, but I had zero interaction with them. Here in Philadelphia there are a lot of people of color. Just a few blocks off campus it seems everyone I passed on the street is African American. Being inexperienced I can't help but wonder, 'Should I even be here?'. Turning up a street, then another one, I'm sure these buildings aren't part of the campus. A big problem develops too because I not sure if I've just come down this street or up that

street; never mind which is the way back to the University. Now I'm seeing entire blocks of unoccupied buildings and some of them look like they'd been bombed, while others obviously have burned to the ground. I've been aware of a black kid, who appears to be about seventeen years old, casually following me for at least the last three blocks. When I stop to check my map, looking around to see if I can locate a street sign on the map, he calls out, "Yo, motherfucker. What you doing here?" I look behind me hoping upon hope that he's calling out to

someone else, but I don't see anyone else and it hits me right then that I hadn't seen anyone for awhile now. I'm a little nervous and a little uncomfortable. The silence around me echoes in my ears; there aren't even cars on the street. Because of my nervousness I look at the kid and do that dumb thing of pointing at myself, as if I'm asking, 'Do you mean me?' He goes, "Who da fuck ya think I'm talking to? You see any other motherfuckers around?"

Hoping my stuttering won't be too noticeable I said, "Pa, per, perr, perhaps ya yo you'd be nice enough to tell me which way back to the University campus." He slowly approaches me; he isn't any bigger than me, but there's a definite attitude about him. He's very aggressive and confident swaggering up close to me, almost chest to

chest. He's wearing droopy jeans and

a thigh-length, too-big Philadelphia 76ers warm-up jacket over some sort of football jersey. On his feet are large, elaborate, and expensive looking Nike leather sneakers, and on his shaved head is what I think is called a 'do rag'. A fat, fake gold chain hangs down from his neck, and close up he looks maybe a year or two older than my original guess. All in all, he's apparently just your standard gangsta rap fan in odd clothes; odd to me that is. I didn't mention this to him though. He asks, "Ya got any bling ya stuttering motherfucker? Give me ten dollars and I might tell ya where your ass is at." I look at him a couple of seconds with my mouth hanging open, then figure I better give him the ten bucks, but when I look in my wallet the smallest bill I have is a twenty. I ask, "Da, do, ya, you, you have change for

a twenty?" He tries not to, but he laughs out loud anyway. and his smile is awesomely cute. "Shiiiit! Where you bounce in from? Gad damn, you stupid! What the fuck yer name? " I tell him and he goes, "Listen, Ol-lee-ver, what the fuck ya need to know where the U of P be? You be too stupid to go to no college!" He'd drawn-out each syllable of my name, to mock me I guess. I stutter that I was already accepted to go there in the fall, and he goes, "Shiiiiit! That's mighty hard to fucking believe Ol-leee-ver! Aaight, give me the fucking twenty. Ya all ain't got no fucking Benjamins do ya?" I had the one Benjamin that Christian gave me, but I shook my head muttering, "No, I don't got no fucking Benjamins".

He stuffs the twenty in his back pocket, staring at me hard. Then he tells

me to follow him and he takes off. I need to hustle keeping up because he walks fast. He leads me back through some alley ways and across empty lots with broken beer bottles and debris of all kinds. It seems like we're going further and further away from the University, but maybe my sense of direction is off. I know enough to know I'm totally lost. None of the streets have street signs so my map is useless. I stutter asking him his name and it sounds like he said, "Ryjohn" but that didn't sound like any name I've ever heard of. I stuttered out "Par, pa, par, pardon, but wha what was that name?" He said "Ryjohn, ya deaf motherfucker!" After that I'm feeling nervous again because he won't talk to me except to say, "Shut the fuck up, Ol...leee....ver, and just follow me." Just when I'm feeling I might pee my pants, expecting to be mugged

or stabbed or worse, we walk around a corner and here we are. I can see the main campus three blocks over to my left. He calls me motherfucker about four more time, but he also tells me which streets to stay off of. Ryjohn grabs the city map from my hand and points to dangerous areas. "Stay the fuck out of there you dumb shit cause maybe you ain't gonna be so lucky next time. You be in the projects when you in here. You see where my black motherfucking finger is pointing?" I look intently, as he explains, "Sum gangsta homies catch your dumb ass in here and you ain't gonna like what happens." He has a scar that starts at his right eyebrow and goes sideways, disappearing under his do-rag. Scar or no scar he's a very good looking boy. I have the urge to touch his face because, except for the thin scar, his skin is flawless, the color of milk chocolate. I resist the urge to touch him and then, taking me by surprise,

Ryjohn cups the back of

my neck with his hand and shakes my head back and forth a couple of times, he's very strong. He pulls my face close to his and I feel his warm, fresh smelling breath on my face with each word, as he says, " A skinny, pretty boy like you in the project is gonna last maybe less than a motherfucking ten minutes. You lucky enough to get me on your motherfucking case so you okay this time, but next time your ass gets lost, and you get some bad ass motherfucker, you just might get shot, or something. So, Ol-leee-ver, stay out of the projects ya dumb fucker you!"

I'm trying hard to follow what he's saying as he pulls my head closer to his until our foreheads touch. His skin is cool, firm, and silky smooth. He holds our heads together for ten seconds or more as I gasped out short

little breaths. I have the strongest urge to kiss him on his lips as I stand there perfectly still, face against face. Ryjohn rubs his forehead back and forth against mine twice, and with that he lets go of me, turns abruptly and walks away a few steps before turning back around and, smiling at me with perfect, beautiful, white teeth, he says, "Ciao, motherfucker!" and he swaggered away. I'm breathless as I call out, "Bye Ryjohn, the thanks," but I'm not sure he heard me. That was maybe the best twenty dollars l've ever spent. Even so, I'm still a bit weak in the knees from my encounter with Ryjon, and my dick feels funny too. I get back to the actual campus grounds and collapse on the first bench I come to realizing how fast my heart is beating. Ryjohn had my heart beating fast and my dick getting hard. He's

one damn hot motherfucker alright! Jeez, I'd never met anyone remotely like him before. I look back to where we'd come out of the projects, but he's nowhere to be seen. Damn, I wish I could have thought faster on my feet and made some kind of connection with him. Sitting on the bench until my boner finally goes down, I think about Ryjohn.

It's late in the afternoon, but I still want to see more so I walk through the campus in the opposite direction from what Ryjohn had called the "projects'. I walk way over on the other side of the campus and there I find a nice section of the city. It's a very busy upscale area with restaurants, clothing stores, food markets, and what looks like four or five bars and taverns. The street is closed off to traffic for three very long blocks so it's effectively a huge

outdoor

Mall. Lots of people strolling around and many of them are young. The energy is exciting with street entertainers adding to the atmosphere. There's a guy on stilts advertising for one of the bars and two jugglers who juggled odd items like balloons filled with water and bowling balls. Maybe it's just me, but I've always felt that jugglers, next to mimes, are the most boring acts imaginable. On the plus side, there are a number of street musicians. One instrumental group and a couple of individual singers. Drawn to one guy, because his voice reminds me of someone, I wander to the group of people listening to him sing. I can only see his back as I make my way through the crowds towards him The closer I get the more familiar he sounds. Then I know who he sounds like. It's maybe a little weird or

macabre, but this guy's

singing voice sounds very much like Tyler's singing voice. The way Tyler sounded when he sang after our voices changed at age thirteen or so. Call it projection or whatever you want, but it's uncanny how much this street artist sounds like my deceased best friend. I don't recognize the song he's singing, but I recognized the sound. I made my way around to the front of the singer as he's finishing the mystery song, and the little crowd gives him a nice round of applause. Some of the audience drifts away allowing me to step into a spot where I can see the singer clearly. He doesn't look anything like Tyler. This guy has that beautiful light tan skin that some Hispanics have. Hell, with the very dark brown hair and eyes, he probably is Hispanic. Hispanic or not, when he asks if anyone had a song request I hear no

accent

whatsoever. Someone, an older lady, asks for something by the Beatles and the singer started right in with another song I'd never heard before, but it did sound like Tyler was singing the damn thing, and it's giving me a real creepy feeling in the pit of my stomach as my eyes teared-up. Damnit! Am I ever going to get over Tyler death?

The singer's wearing an old Army field jacket and jeans that are ripped in both knees. Real old boots on his feet ad to the feeling that this guy is homeless except he's too young to be homeless. I wipe my eyes and stare at the singer's mouth as he sings easily and naturally. His full lips are shaped perfectly, a delicious rosy pink color and behind those lips I can see very white shiny teeth. There's a tiny space between his front teeth that somehow looks cute on him, or maybe it's

his chin that's cute. When he opens his mouth for certain notes I can see his tongue which is the same rosy pink color as his lips. I can't take my eyes off his mouth and while I'm not a huge Beatles fan, the song is okay and his voice is pure. He effortlessly plays an electric guitar sounding amazingly good considering he has only one small speaker amplifying the sound. I'm mesmerized by his performance, or maybe I'm mesmerized by him. He has a short, wispy, sparse beard that's not dark brown, but a light brown color and very soft looking. He's young, like I said, maybe nineteen, his dark brown hair is pulled back into a short pony tail. There's a

calmness about this kid

that's hard to describe, but it somehow adds to the mesmerizing feeling I have. Big brown eyes, his whole face unbelievably attractive, but difficult to characterize. I wouldn't say he's just cute necessarily, or just handsome either, he's probably too young to be described as handsome, but to say he's good looking is an understatement. I don't know exactly, but I love his looks. He's an inch or two taller than me and just about as skinny. When he's finished the Beatles' song he asks for another request and like a dork I raise my hand. Everyone else just calls out their requests, but he ignore them and points at me and, with a cute grin on his face quietly says, "No one has ever done that before; raised their hand I mean. I really like that for some reason, whaddya wanna hear?" It got real

quiet in our group with everyone gawking at me now, and because I'd raised my hand and everyone is staring, I can feel my face get bright red and hot. I go, "Da, da, da, do, do. ya .....tha the" as my face gets hotter and redder. It's too much, I just shake my head "no" and look at the ground. The singer has a long cord leading from his guitar to the amp which allows him to walk over in front of me, and in a warm, sincere voice, he says, "No, please. It's alright, we'll wait for you. Please tell me what you'd like to hear?" I want to be invisible is what I want, but I need to try again so I go, "De, de, da, de ....the Pla, pla " He waits calmly looking at me with a pleasant expectant expression on his cute face. No smirk or smile, like it's funny that I stutter. It's been years since I'd

stuttered this badly, but I'm captivated by his eyes as he stars into mine, and his voice too of course. Even with my heart pounding and my face about to burst into flames, I knew I must again, but I'm very much aware of the growing sound of nervous, uneasy mumbling from the others standing around us. I say, "Pla, plain White T's.....Hey The, tha, There De, de, de, Delilah". I felt the tears of embarrassment filling my eyes and then the horror of one lone tear rolling down my cheek. He ignores the tear and nods his head saying, "I love 'Hey There Delilah' it's become one of my favorite songs to sing." Then, while still staring me in the eyes, standing right in front of me using Tyler's voice, he sings that song as well as anyone could.

He sings the entire song

directly to me. It's been years since I last stuttered to the extent I stuttered trying to get out my song request, but by the time he was done singing the song I'd forgotten all about the stuttering. Clapping much too hard and too long when the song is over, he gives me the warmest smile. After hesitating a few beats, looking at me, he slowly roams over to the other side of the crowd to hear another request and this time I recognize the song. I stay and listened to the singer for almost a half hour, but he never comes back to my side of the crowd again. Finally he announces he's taking a break and he picks up his baseball cap from in front of him, with dollar bills sticking out from people tossing money

in

the hat. I want to put money in too, but I still only had twenty dollar bills and that one Benjamin Christian gave me. Too much to leave in a hat for a song. The cute singer walks off and I wait over hour, but he never returns and I need to start finding my way back to the hotel anyway. Darkness has set in by now so everything looks different. Walking back through the campus I make sure not to go too far off course and wind-up in the 'projects' again. It takes some doing, and over an hour of trying, but I get back to the Holiday Inn safely. I asked quite a few people for help along the way and was surprised at the number of people who didn't even know what street they were on. In retrospect I don't know why I was surprised 'cause I didn't know what street

I was on either. The map helped once I finally figured out some of the streets. As soon as I saw the elevated train station I knew where I was and that's a good feeling; it's always nice finding your way out of being lost. I used to do it all the time on my long bike rides.

At the Holiday Inn there's a buffet dinner for our high school group, and I pay for my meal with one of my food vouchers. After eating standing up, I go to my room and call my parents to tell them I was having a great time. Then, laying on the bed, I think about my adventures today. I'd discovered two exciting boys who were totally different, but who both seemed so worldly as compared to me, and so hot too. Thinking about Ryjohn and how sexy and attractive he is, and then thinking about the mesmerizing street singer, both giving me the urge to jerk, off so

I do; not once, but

twice. I doze off between wanks and neither of my wankings last very long. Just thinking

about

those two has me

pumping my boner in a blur and squealing out with the eruption. Following my second orgasm I take a long shower and get into bed with the TV on, and promptly fell asleep. After a surprisingly good nights sleep; surprising considering I'm in a strange place alone, I'm feeling almost like a seasoned traveler. Of course I did have all three locks on the door fully engaged. Down the steps for breakfast, using another voucher and the food is good too! Spending a little time in the bathroom cleaning up and doing the toilet thing, then I'm down the stairs and out the side door again. As I pass the small conference room I hear the attendance being taken again and I smile because, like always, I'm on my own and taking attendance with just me isn't necessary 'cause I know I'm here, and no one else cares anyway. This time I don't need a little old lady to get me on the correct train. Back on the

University of Pennsylvania's campus before ten, bright eyed with a big smile on my face knowing I have the whole day to explore. But the hell with the campus right now, I walk directly to that outside mall looking for the street singer again. The mall isn't nearly as crowded this morning as it had been yesterday and I quickly determine my street singer isn't here. The guys who are here don't interest me so I slowly walk back to the campus to start getting familiar with it. I still have the bright eyes, but I'd put the smile away for the time being.

My plan is to try talking to some of the students, although my really bad stuttering yesterday worries me. Am I regressing with that because I'm alone in a strange place four hours from home? I was very nervous both with Ryjohn and

especially with the street singer.

Christ, if I stuttered like that nobody will want to talk to me for long, but here goes. The first person I asked id I could have a word with is a young looking student who's succinct with his response; he said "No." Not the response I was hoping for, but the good news is I'd hardly stuttered at all when I asked. Okay, I hardly stutter asking two girls walking together if they had a minute, but they didn't even acknowledge me, they just kept walking. I saw a student reading a book while sitting on a bench so I sat on the same bench and looked over at him to say something, but he says something first. "I'm reading a fucking book, can't you see that?" Hmmm, I get up wondering, 'Is it possible every single person that goes to the University of Pennsylvania is a stuck-up asshole?' What a bunch of balloon head, ego maniacs! I smell coffee then and wander into a building with a cafeteria on the ground floor.

It's crowded, but I get a

coffee and am lucky enough to grab a table that two girls are just leaving. Great table that looks out on the busy campus grounds. Looking around the cafeteria I see that everyone is talking and laughing just like normal kids. They don't appear stuck-up from a distance. Three guys walk right over to my table, and say, "Sorry to intrude dude, but there aren't any empty tables so lets share. Would that be okay with you?" They're all sitting down as they ask so I just smile at their apparently rhetorical question. For all I know this is a common practice, sitting with strangers when no other space is available. Plus, now I'd have my opening to get friendly, ask some questions, and maybe learn something. I say, "How ya all doing? My name's Oliver." A boy with a

very

thick drawl, like maybe he's from Mississippi asks, "Didn't somebody write a book about you, Oliver?" I said, " I think maybe you're confusing me with my cousins the Twists". He goes, "Yeah, that must be it. I get everything back-asswards. What class you in?" As in graduating class, I assume. He looks younger than a college student, but some guys just look young. I tell him I'm a senior knowing he'll be shocked. He goes, "Jesus Christ, how young were you when you started college?" I go, "Oh, I mean a senior in high school; I'm here on a senior class trip." Then I explained I was taking this opportunity to check out the University. He asks if I'm a scholarship student and I tell him I am and which scholarship I'd received. He says, "You must be a frigin' genius then." He has the darkest red hair I've ever seen and

his face is covered with big freckles. He tells me his name is Andy and he's in his freshman

year. The other two both

have the same first name, Barry. They explained that the scholarship I'd received was only given to students with perfect grades and close to perfect SAT scores. He added, hesitantly, that there has to be special circumstances or hardship involved too. I hadn't know that, but I couldn't help but wonder if Tyler's death and my reaction to his death was the special circumstance for me. My parents would know what they put down for my special hardship, but I might not ask them what it is because maybe I don't want to know. I just nod my head at the special circumstance remark and move on, asking, "How is freshman year working out for you guys?" Andy says, "Its been funking blippin!" and when I asked what that means he says it means, "Awesome, cool! Like that." The thin Barry tells me that

Andy is from the boonies of Alabama, "Way out past

East Cupcake. So to Andy, everything seems like it's blippin!" I didn't ask where East Cupcake was. As they drink their coffees and eat their sweet rolls and donuts they tell me some funny stories, and then some tales of woe about how hard it is in the beginning getting use to the difficulty of the work, and especially the volume of work they need to do on their own after classes. The heavy set Barry started ragging on Andy. He tells me with a serious, dead-pan expression, "In Andy's neighborhood they know you're trailer trash when you let your twelve-year-old daughter smoke at the dinner table in front of all her kids." I hesitated for just a second, but couldn't hold it in and burst out laughing. The other guys chuckle and Andy goes, "Fuck you, Barry. Why don't you concentrate on finishing

the half dozen donuts you

got in front of you, ya fat fuck." Then the other Barry added a few insults and they were having a good old time.

I'm wondering, since they were college students,if maybe they could help me out with something. All three look at me when I ask, "What's a cranny?" The fat Barry said, "Oh, she's married to your grandfather usually." I go, "Not granny, cranny.... as in nook and cranny?" At the same time both Barrys state "Fuck if I know". Andy says, "I'm from Alabama, I don't know shit." I told them that it was great dealing with real live college students. They get serious again, or slightly serious, as they all agreed that a Professor Wainrite was a complete 'assoholic' and that I should stay clear of his

class. They called him a 'ambigusexual' too and I

questioned what that slang word means. It means, in their special speak, that they don't know if he is gay or not, but he might be. It seems that between Ryjohn and these university kids I'm going to need to learn an entire new vocabularies.The 'ambigusexual' remark at least provided an opening for some talk about gays at the university. As far as these guys know there are about the same percentage of gays at the University as the population at large, anyway that's the consensus of Andy and the two Barrys. And yes, there are gay clubs and gay organizations and nobody really cares all that much if you're gay or not. The fat Barry says, "Why all the interest in gays, Oliver? Are you gay?" And for the first time in my life I say, "Yes, I'm gay, but so far I haven't been able to do anything to prove it." They all

laugh and go "That's

cool!" Andy is majoring in Biology and he has this to say, "Guess what I learned yesterday? There are over three thousand spiders living at the same time, for every human being on earth." The two Barrys and me look at each other, and I say, "No shit, does anybody want my three thousand? I certainly don't." This got a good laugh and I felt almost like part of the group. They went on to tell me about a girl, apparently they call girls 'anchovies'. The fat Barry says, "If you walk around the campus enough, Oliver, you're bound to see this anchovy. She always wears mini skirts; in the fall or winter or spring, it don't matter, and she's infamous on campus for always sitting with her legs spread wide open. It's as if she's saying "Take a whiff." I go, "Gross!" and as we all laugh again I glance out the

window

and there he is, the street singer from yesterday.

He looks different because he's now wearing preppy clothes, and he has a back pack on, and it's far from the homeless look of yesterday. He has his arm around a pretty girl's shoulder and the two of them are laughing. I stare at them and, absurdly feel upset, disappointed he's with a girl. I think, 'What the hell is that 'anchovy' doing with my street singer?' Apparently he hadn't sung that song to me with any special meaning, like I thought he might have, or at least hoped he had. Damn!! After thanking the three guys for all the laughs and information, I tell them I'd look them up next fall, and hurry outside. As usual, I have no

plan. Outside, the street singer is walking away with the girl, but at the last second he turns his head and sees me standing there looking at him. He does a double take and holds the second look until the girl pulls on his sleeve and he goes back to talking with her. I watch them walk around a corner and disappear. That look he'd given me, did it mean anything? I continue acquainting myself with the University campus, walking up every side street and brick walkway I come upon. Three girls stopped and talked with me for twenty minutes.They're very friendly and I think they were flirting with me or teasing me or something. They concentrated mostly on describing the party scene on campus and gave me the name of two hot bar spots for college kids. One of the girls adds, "Although I really need to

tell you that you'll never get served in either bar, Oliver. Sorry, baby, but you look way too young to pass for twenty one." The girl who said that to me is named Dee; she plays with my hair as she talks to me. They ask me questions about my scholarship and my high school experience. I tell the truth about the scholarship, but lie about the high school experience telling them it was 'blippin'. They just nod as if they know what I mean. Later I had a late lunch with two black students from England. They have cool accents and tell me a lot about the diversity on campus. Of course they're referring to race, religion etc, but also a little bit about diversity as far as one's sexual orientation goes, although they don't know about any gay clubs. When I ask about gay dorms they they didn't think there is such a thing and the gay conversation isn't of any interest to them so they finish up their lunch and drift

away.

I'm getting tired, but no way am I going back to the hotel without checking out that street Mall to see my street singer again, but when I walk over he wasn't there this time either, so I wander around looking in shop windows and listening to the other street musicians. I bought this big fat, soft pretzel covered with large salt crystals. People were squeezing mustard on their pretzel so I thought, what the fuck, I'll try that too. Yum yum. Then, there he is again, the street singer who sang to me yesterday. He's alone, standing in a group listening to a guy play the flute, of all things. Not sure what to do because I hadn't planned

anything; so, without a better plan, I just followed him as he wandered around from group to group. He seemed deep in thought. Each change of position I got closer and closer until I was right next to him. "Heh, hello...ha, how are you doing?" I manage to say. He turns his head and sees me, exclaiming, "Hey, it's my main 'Plain White T's' man! I saw you earlier this afternoon, didn't I?" And just like that we started talking as we stood there together, like we actually knew each other. He says he can't believe he hasn't seen me around the university before, mistakenly thinking I'm a student because he'd seen me on campus today. I told him about me being a high school senior and the whole routine about me checking the university out on my Senior Class trip. After about five minutes he puts out his hand, and says, "I'm Cristobal Juarez, it's nice to meet you....?" I say, "Oliver Nickerson, the

pleasure is mine". We shake hands and afterwards he puts his arm across my shoulders and we stroll off with him asking me what I want to see on campus? I tell him, "I'd love to see a dormitory". "Lets go, Oliver. I'll show you mine." As we walk he's very talkative and friendly. We talk about the kinds of music we like and our favorite bands and did I play a musical instrument and stuff like that. He made me feel very relaxed and I wasn't stuttering hardly at all.

His dorm is in a very old building. It's one room basically, and he shares it with a room mate, who's out at the moment. I'm disappointed the dorm isn't

nicer, or bigger, or something. Just a

messy room. I sit on his bed and he sits at his desk and we talk some more. I tell him about me singing in the church choir and he explains that he earns extra pocket money doing the street musician gig three nights a week and how he'd do it even if there wasn't money involved because it's a rush getting applause. I tell him about me singing in the church choir and he goes, "Let me hear you sing something," and after some encouragement I sing some of the "Hey There Delilah" song. He claps saying I've got a wonderful voice and we should sing it together for the tourist sometime. He says there are a lot of tourist who come to see the University and a lot of local people, in addition to all the college kids who shop and eat at the street mall. So there's always plenty of foot traffic in that three block area. While we're in his dorm room he gets a couple of calls on his cell phone and near the end of the second one he says into the phone,

"Okay, I'll stop

over

for a while. I'm

bringing a friend with me." To me he says, "Come on, Oliver, I'll show you what a typical fraternity party looks like." He's so easy to get along with. All during our time together I couldn't help but stare at him. I guess I'll just have to say he's beautiful because this close up I can't think of a better word to describe him. In addition to being beautiful, there's also something so 'kind' so 'nice' about him. I love being with him. We walk a slow fifteen minute walk, talking all the while with his arm across my shoulders again. It feels very comfortable and natural somehow, and then there it was, the party. A lot of guys and girls out front of an old mansion. Well, it was big enough to be a mansion. A girl comes right up to Cris and he introduces me. It's the anchovy I'd seen him with earlier. He keeps his arm

across my shoulders which makes me feel awesome. Her name's Candy and she doesn't seem to think it odd that Cris has his arm across my shoulders. We talk for a couple of minutes then go inside for beers. I'm not much of a drinker, but I try to keep up with Candy, at least. Cris was drinking more, but it didn't seem to affect him much. The two of them talk about a concert they'd been to last weekend. They laugh a lot and Cris makes sure he includes me in the conversation every minute or so.

There's music playing and after about a half an hour people begin dancing and it's a very active party. Lots of loud talking and laughter. Candy's off dancing with some guy who'd come over to ask her for a dance. Cris is singing along with a CD as I stare at him, and all of a

sudden, he says,

"Here Oliver, give me

your beer." I give it to him and he put both our beers on a step and without a word he takes hold of my hand and begins slow dancing with me with our crotches rubbing together. He just took it for granted that I'd want to dance with him and he made it all seem, somehow, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to do. I'm stunned speechless. First of all, I can't dance. And, obviously, that's secondary to the fact we're both boys, and in the world I know about boys do not dance together. Very quickly Cris says with a laugh, "Oh my God Oliver, you're a terrible dancer. Here, follow me." And he begins to teach me to dance. Other kids are all around us, but no one makes any comment or even looks over. They're either seriously into themselves and don't notice us or, more likely, they're used to seeing Cris dancing with boys. Slow dancing isn't hard to pick up and I love feeling Cris' body. He puts his face

next to mine and I naturally get a hard-on; I get a lot of hard-ons. Oh what a wonderful feeling to be in his arms. I keep thinking that this can't be happening, but of course it is. He smells so good! We dance through three songs. After the third song Cris picks-up his beer, leaving his left arm around my waist, and tasting the beer, he goes, "Ugh! Its warm. Lets get some cold ones," and off we go. He made no effort to explain why he'd started dancing with me or why he thought I'd be okay with it. There are questions I have for Cris, but I don't want to ruin this most perfect time by asking them, so I save the questions for later. This is simply too

excellent and too wonderfully exciting!

We have a fresh cold beer and Cris is telling me about the different fraternities and how they all had a different approach to partying. I finally just have to interrupted him because I'm so curious; I had to ask this much at least. I go, "I've never danced with a boy before, have you, Cris?" He laughs telling me that of course he has, many times, but never with a boy who dances as badly as I do. He said it with a very sweet smile and he ruffled my hair as he said it, then added, "Or with a boy as cute as you either." I was speechless, but thrilled! He takes my hand and leads me around the side of the huge porch that encircles the ground floor. When we're alone he gently holds my head

between his two hands and kisses my cheek, one at a time; first the top one and then the other. His skimpy short beard is so soft I hardly feel it. Quickly a kiss on both my lips, then a longer kiss on my lips which I open for him. With my lips apart he put his tongue against my front teeth and licks them, up and around his tongue goes, up under my top lip as I moan and open my mouth and he French kisses me. I'd never felt this way before. He's taking his time kissing me with such passion I begin to feel dizzy. No drama, I'm really dizzy because I'd forget to breath. My boner's leaking as he kissing my neck, just under my jaw, and then gently sucks there. Shortly, I hump my hips a couple of times against his thigh, involuntarily and climax in my pants while crying out a squeaky sound like air escaping from a pin prick in a balloon. I'm clutching him around his waist so tightly

he asks me to please loosen my hold a bit. "Oliver, you little hottie! You just had an orgasm in your pants, didn't you? You are so cute! I can't tell you how happy I am that I found you again." Gasping for air from my climax, a climax that felt better than any I could ever remember having. He hands me his handkerchief and says, "Hurry Oliver, wipe inside your pants before your cum soaks through. That would be embarrassing, no?" He's laughing again. I undo my pants and do what he'd suggested and he made it all seem like fun and games. Afterward, I kiss Cris on his lips and we kiss and made-out for another ten minutes with my boner coming back again and now I feel his hard boner against my thigh too.

Certainly this

was the most sexually excited I've ever been. I want to make-out all night, but Cris tells me how he hates to break it up, but he has to get back because needs to study for a final exam he's taking in the morning. "I wouldn't even have come over here tonight, Oliver, but I couldn't resist the chance to get a few beers in you and loosen you up a little. I thought about your cute face all last night and I'm so glad I ran into you again at the Mall again. It's been fabulous! Come on and walk me back to my dorm; we'll make plans for tomorrow, okay?" In a fog of happiness I nod my head and grin at him. Outside his dorm we kiss a little more and his hands rub my body, particularly my ass; it's been truly a dream come true for me. Out of no where this miracle happened. We make plans for me to meet him, after his classes, at the street mall tomorrow at three in the afternoon. "I'll play guitar and

sing for one or two hours and then the two of us will think of something to do," and he'd said that last part with his wicked cute smile. Every time I think he's given me the last goodnight kiss he hesitate and comes back for another one. I would have stayed here all night, but he finally does go in to study. I'm in that fog I mentioned all the way back to the Holiday Inn. On the way back I went over every kiss and every touch from Cris. What a fantastic turn of events. After getting something to eat, with me sort of floating, I drift up to my room and lay on my bed, again going over each thing Cristobal and me did together. He'd told me that his father is Puerto Rican and his mother is half Irish and half Japanese. What a fabulous combination and did it ever create a beautiful boy. Talented and smart as hell too. Not a brag, but you can't get in the University of Pennsylvania unless you're at the top of

your high school

class. Running the water in the bathtub. I soak in there thinking about the sensations he'd given me. Brand new, totally unexpected sensuous sensations and feelings of wonder and lust. Remembering how he tasted and how he felt and his natural scent is wonderful; I couldn't get enough of him. If I'm not mistaken, and not projecting my own feelings on him, it appears he couldn't get enough of me either. Isn't that the most startling thing though; this geeky misfit in high school, without a friend in the world, is somehow good enough to attract a hot, gorgeous, and smart boy like Cris. Huh! I think of him as I slowly stroke my boner under the warm water and I end up with my whole body shaking and my shoulders shuddering in the water as I have a wild climax. Yes, Cris has shown me a truly brand new level of sexual feelings. Real ones, not my fantasies of old.

It's difficult falling asleep because I can't stop thinking about him and the possibilities of fulfilling my ultimate dream of having true gay sex with a cute boy around my own age. When I do go to sleep I dream of Cristobal Juarez and wake up with the dream in my head. The dream is merely about us two dancing, but it excites me so much I need to jerk off again. It's only three o'clock in the morning as I shoot my third load

of the evening.

First in my pants with Cris, and then in the bathtub, and lastly jerking off in bed thinking about that dream. Three fabulous wanks. He takes my breath away like nothing else ever has; everything about him excites me.The next morning I'm restless, thinking about what I'd do until it's time to meet Cris at the street mall. To try getting my mind off him for a little while I go on one of the hotel's sight seeing tours. It lasts two hours and it definitely is interesting and I'm glad I went because now I'll have something to tell my parents. I'm pretty sure I'm not going to be mentioning my activities with Cristobal. Eating lunch in the hotel with the senior class I actually talk to some of my classmates. It's fun listening to them recount their adventures on the class trip and it seems they're having a good time with a lot of laughs, but it also sounds like kid stuff compared to my adventures. After killing some time walking around

Philadelphia it's time for me to catch an elevated train to the university.

Cris is already singing when I get to the outdoor mall and he looks so cool. Today he's going with a continuation of his preppy look. Last night he'd told me he has three looks for his guitar and singing gigs at the Mall: the homeless look that I saw him in the first day, a preppy look like today, and his favorite one the punk look. He'd showed me his punk outfit with clip on piercings and he described the way he did a wild moused-up hairdo. We discussed it all in detail when we were in his room doing all that talking yesterday. I like all his looks and can't imagine a look

that I wouldn't like if Cristobal was involved. He doesn't notice me standing here in his audience for the first couple of minutes and when he does he brakes out in this big grin right in the middle of his song. People saw the big grin and look over in the direction Cris is looking and they had to notice me staring back at Cris and smiling like mad at him. He shakes his head with a grin and a laugh and looks other places. It made me feel great to see his reaction when he saw me. He does a couple more songs than tells everyone that he has a friend who is going to sing a number with him, "Come on up, Oliver". Oh, fuck no! What if I screw this up? I wasn't afraid I'd stutter because I never stutter when I sing, although I haven't

been doing much singing lately. Cris is performing up on a big slab of

granite about ten inches higher than the brick walkway where the audience stands. What choice do I have? Make Cris look foolish is out of the question, so I step up on the granite and Cris starts right in playing "Hey There Delilah" and I start singing without thinking about it and we're off and running. We really do a helluva duet number on that song. It sounded great and everyone got into it and we get a big hand with calls for another.

The crowd calls out "One more, one more," and there's lots of smiling so maybe they think we're cute. See how Cris has improved my self confidence. Cris looks at me and I whisper, "The only songs I know all the words to, are "Delilah" and "Amazing Grace". Cris gives me a look like, 'How do you know that song?' as if I could ever forget it, but of course he doesn't know my story. He

plays a

little of it on the guitar and I sing it right out and it really comes across good. I close my eyes and with Cris singing along with me it sounds just like I remembered me

and

Tyler doing it all

those years so long ago. Singing it again with Cris, who has Tyler's sound-alike voice, is very moving to me. I'm proud of myself for not crying although it was close. Maybe I am growing-up.Tyler will always be in my heart, but maybe I can live and love with another as well. We get another great round of applause, maybe because that song seems to have quite an affect on people. What a thrill I had! The applause and singing with Cris, who sounds like Tyler; such a rush, such a blast from my past. After "Amazing Grace" Cris went back to doing his stuff and much later with an all new audience we both did, "Delilah" and "Amazing Grace" for them. It's almost five o'clock when Chris says he's totally wiped out. His baseball cap has more money in it then at any other day he could remember, or maybe he said that to make me feel good; it's the kind of thing I think he'd do. He wants to split the money with me, but I won't take

it.

We drift over to his dorm room to drop off his guitar and amp, then Cris insists he's going to treat me to dinner. I feel like I've had a glow all around me; the last twenty four hours has been so wonderful, and so much fun, and so sexy. Maybe the best twenty four hours of my life. In his room he puts his guitar away in it's case and casually puts his arms around me to hug me to him. Without speaking he has one hand cupping the back of my head, just like Ryjohn did. Cris rubs up the back of my head and takes a hand full of my hair in his fist, his other arm around my waist, and his lips cover mine and his delicious taste is all over my tongue. He'd shaved his little skimpy beard and he looks even younger now. The smoothness and tightness of his face is very sexy

and I licked up his cheek

just like I'd done to that pizza shoppe boy a few days ago. My cock gets hard immediately. The newness of kissing and being kissed by another boy, one who is so attractive, has me quietly moaning with pleasure from the very first touch. These sensations are all so new to me that they're having a very powerful, instantaneous affect on my cock. My body responds to him totally and my boner is hard within seconds of contact, and quickly I'm nearly delirious from his smell and his taste and his feel. I'm squirming and cooing, with a tingling all over my body. Cris has a way of licking and sucking my tongue that causes my boner to leak. Everything he does completely overwhelmes my senses with pleasure. It isn't long

before

I pull my lips away from his and, with the

sides of our faces together, I take a deep breath and whisper, "Cristobal, please, please, I'm going to cum too soon again and I want to enjoy the feeling of being aroused longer." He's hungry for me though and won't stop kissing the side of my face and under my chin on my neck, and then just like the night before I moan as a long stream of cum floods my underwear as I struggle again for air; then more contractions in my groin and more squirts of cum in my pants. I grunt as I hump Cristobal's leg throughout my climax.

This yummy pleasure feeling even tops what I experienced yesterday. Unable to speak because it's like otherworldly to me, I can only moan quietly in intense pleasure as the after effects of my orgasm travel around my body. What a feeling of ecstasy! I've gone through nineteen years of life waiting for it and as

waves of pleasure emanate from my groin to spread over my body I bask in this new world of pleasure.

Our faces are wet with our saliva as Cris slowly moved his lips back and forth across my slippery cheeks, mumbling, "You're delicious, Oliver, and many boys must have already told you that. I could just eat you with a

spoon." He undoes his

pants and taking hold of my hand to pushed it down the front of his pants; my first feel of another boy's erection. It feels exactly like mine, but knowing it's his gets me blowing out little puffs of air as my shoulders shudder and a chill runs through me. Continuing breathing with only little bursts of air, I stroked his wonderful cock. He's quietly saying, "Harder Oliver, and faster please! Oh yes, that's it. Ah Ah...." as his cock erupts between us shooting his orgasm straight up. Cum on both our T-shirts as he's breathing hard all through his climax. When Cris is calm enough, in a breathy voice, he mumbles, "Hey, look at the mess I made, Oliver. I know you did it again in your pants, you horny boy you. Ya better clean that cum out of your pants again or you'll be eating dinner with a big wet spot on your zipper. I'll get us a

couple of clean T-shirts to." He's laughing again. We share a cold coke and then wearing Cris' clean T-shirts, then we go outside to a beautiful spring night. As we approach the outdoor Mall to eat at a favorite spot of Cris' I clumsily half-stepped off a curb and trip badly on a broken sewer grate, going down like I was shot. The pain in my ankle is piercing and it's so bad I can't even scream at first. Then I curse, "God damn it! Fuck!" as I try to get up. Cris is trying to help, but the pain is intense right now. Way to screw up a magical night, Oliver! That's what I'm thinking. It takes a minute for me to even pull myself up enough so I can sit on the curb, my leg with the wounded ankle stretched out in front of me. I really want to cry like a

baby

from the pain, but that's out of the question of course. Cris is asking me stuff, but I can't focus on what he's saying just yet. The pain, plus I'm so pissed off at myself I can't concentrate.

Cris kneels next to me asking what he can do to help. The high shrill pain in my ankle is down to a throbbing ache now and I can handle that. I say, "Oh man, I'm sorry. I couldn't talk for a minute there. I twisted my ankle when I tripped and this white pain dominated my senses, I guess. Jesus Christ, I never had anything hurt like that before. Would ya help me to stand?" Cris grabs under my armpits from behind and pulls me up, but I can't put any pressure on my foot with the hurt ankle. He holds on to me, and with me hopping on my good foot we get over to a low brick wall and I sit on it. Cris

takes out his cell phone and calls his room mate who quickly

shows up in a brand new

Mini Cooper convertible. The room mate is only a little over five feet tall, maybe five foot three inches. He weighs maybe a hundred and fifty pounds, much of it muscles. His T-shirt bulges with muscles. His head's shaved and he had many, many tattoos. Every fingers has a ring on it and that included his thumbs. He looks a little scary, but when we're introduced he's the nicest guy you'd ever hope to meet. His name is Davis Moore. Davis picks me up and puts me in the front passenger seat. Cris gets in the tiny back seat, but with Davis being so short the driver's seat is way up and Cris therefore has a little leg room. My seat is pushed all the way back so I can stretch out my leg with the injured ankle. It's kind of weird, but the Mini is a very small car so Cris and me are almost sitting next to

each other. Me in

the front and him in the back.

Davis drives us to a hospital emergency room and both guys helped me hobble in. This hospital isn't far from the university; students have been known to do stupid things even if they're smart enough to get in Pennsylvania University, so there are plenty of people in the waiting room when we get there. Universities are full of nineteen to twenty-two year old kids and there are countless ways for kids in that age group to injure themselves, which is why more than half the people waiting to be seen by a doctor are students. Amazingly, even with a full room of patients who all needed attention, we get immediate admittance without even checking in at the front desk. I realized why we get this special treatment when the beautiful emergency room doctor comes right over to us and kissed Cris, saying, "Hi,

Baby. I hear your boyfriend has a boo boo?" Then she goes, "Davis, did you get another fucking tattoo?" Davis proudly mutters, "I got two more since I last saw you, Dr Juarez." Dr Juarez? I'm no dummy so I figure out right away that the Doctor is Cris' mother. After an X-ray verifies there are no broken bones, the doctor feels around

my ankle and concludes I have a number one level sprain. "Not too bad at all." she mumbles, which is easy for her to say; maybe it's 'Not too bad at all', but for me it hurt real bad. Anyway, she expertly wraps my ankle using an elastic bandage and then instructs a nurse to wrap the bandage with a chemical cold pack. Jesus, that thing got wicked cold, immediately! The nurse gives me some cheap looking crutches and tells me to stay off the ankle until it stops hurting, which I'm pretty sure I'd have done without her telling me. "How long will it take to heal?" I ask and she says, "Um, lets say four to ten days," which doesn't narrow down the time frame all that much, but I just nod my head like I'd actually learned something. I guess it seems to me that the hospital people are awfully, um, blasé about my ankle sprain. To them it's a yawner, but to me it's a painful inconvenience. Still, if there's nothing else that will help,

whaddaya gonna do?

While Dr Juarez did not appear to consider my injury an interesting concern, she was interested in questioning Cristobal about why he hadn't showed up for Sunday dinner last weekend. Also she wanted to know what kind of grades he think's he'll be getting this semester, and she comes right out, in front of me, to ask him if I'm his latest boyfriend, and how old was I because, "He don't look eighteen to me, Christobal and

you better not be fucking around

with under age boys or I'll do surgery on your private parts." Cris laughed easily, obviously used to his mother's concerns, and her potty mouth. He confirms I'm nineteen and that he's getting good grades and tells her not to worry so much. Still nosy, the doctor asks him how Cris knows me, and how did I hurt my ankle and, "It better not have been during some degenerate sex act," and on and on and on she goes, Cristobal making wiseass comments to each query and with me sitting right there, but being ignored by Doctor Juarez. It was actually fun, and funny, because it all seemed so natural between mother and son that obviously it's their normal way of communicating; almost like peers. Davis and I just exchange smirks because, like I said, it was like we weren't even there. Everything was basically light banter back and forth between Cris and his mother. When they're finally done, his doctor-mother kisses Cris again, then says, "Oliver's

your cutest boyfriend yet," and to Cris, "I hope you can keep him longer then you managed to hold on to Mikey!" I'm liking these references to me being cute, but how come no one in my hometown noticed that? When we're leaving she looks at me and warmly tells me how wonderful it's been meeting me, which surely is an exaggerations since we haven't exchanged ten words with each other. Cris' mother says bye to Davis, and then adds,

"Now I need to take care of my real emergency room patients." Nobody takes my painful ankle sprain seriously except me. Damn!

Trying to get used to my crutches, we make it outside and amazingly that entire emergency room experience took no more then ten minutes. Good to know the emergency room doctor, or better yet, be the son of the emergency room doctor. Davis drives us to the Holiday Inn and as he pulls up to the front door, Cris says, "Davis, thanks, my man! You rock! I'll take the train back to school after I get Oliver settled." Davis goes, "No fucking problem, bro. You take care, Oliver!" I mutter my thanks, wobbling on my crutches which seem too high for my size. Cris rubs my head smiling at my difficulty with the crutches, then, as Davis puts the car in gear, Cris mumbles to Davis, "Thanks again you scary looking fucker!" I say my thanks again

too,

but he just waves it off and asks Cris, "Shall I hold my breath until you get back to the dorm, Juarez?" Cris laughs, saying, "Maybe you better not. See ya later dude." Hmmm, Davis is assuming Cris is going to stay with me in my room. I sure hoped he's right, or he could have just been kidding. Cris is carrying something in a brown paper bag as we make our way to the front door of the Holiday Inn. Me hobbling unsteadily along on my crutches, we use the

elevator because there's no way I'd be able to negotiate three flights of stairs on these crutches. Luck was with me again in that no one from the high school sees me coming in or going up on the elevator. It's almost seven o'clock by the time we get in my room and Cris nods his approval, with a smile, at the room. Perhaps he's impressed with how neat it is compared to his messy dorm room. He helps get me seated and I take the opportunity to rub my face against his cheek and inhale his boyish clean smell. I got it bad for him, but I don't want to make a fool of myself by gushing that I'm in love, or some other dumb thing like that. I'll be cool and take it for granted that he's attracted to me, although inside I'm thrilled beyond words. Cris picks up the room service menu, grinning at me, and says, "I promised you dinner, Oliver, and dinner you shall have. What would you like?" We settle on a large cheese pizza and a couple orders

of barbecued chicken wings.

While we wait for the food, he pulls two bottles of red wine from the paper bag, and says, "Look what Davis bought for me." I stupidly, say, wine?" as if it was a guessing game. He laughs, saying, "Good guess," then, "In our house we drink wine with dinner. I had my first glass of wine when I was thirteen years old. Every dinner since then, when I'm home, I have wine to drink with the evening meal. Do you drink anything?" I tell him I haven't had the opportunity until now, but

I'd like to try it with

him. He pour some in the plastic cups he finds in the bathroom and I take a sip. It's worse than not good, it's horrible, but of course I force it down because I want to be sophisticated like Cristobal. I love being with him for many reasons; he's so relaxed and easy going, and it's obvious he likes me. It's very exciting too being with my first gay sort of boyfriend. I know I'm getting carried away, but he gives me compliments and kisses, and he let me feel his dick too. Haha, I guess I'm infatuated with him and I'll bet a lot of other gay boys are as well. He asks how I'm doing, and how do I like the wine, and would I like him to turn on the TV, or some music maybe. Oh my God, he's so nice and considerate of me and it's awesome to be noticed and even doted on. New experiences for me. Please let my luck continue because I want to experience the ultimate gay act with this awesome boy. I feel so lucky, good luck finally found me

after a lifetime of bad luck.

We decide on some music as we drink our wine and talk. Cris is a wonderful conversationist without asking probing questions; I almost wish he would because somehow I think it would be good for me to unload my list of problems while growing up. It wouldn't be fair to do that I suppose, and I'm not actually looking for sympathy anyway; it's more I'd like understanding from a peer. It's hard to carry on my part of the conversation and be honest with him, without some of my history coming out. I mean I had a lonely and sad childhood, to say the least. Our pizza and chicken wings arrive and we drink the wine and eat the food and one thing leads to another and I finally tell Cris about my lousy high school experience. He listens with a frown on his face, like he can hardly believe his ears, but he gives me his total

attention. Once I get started I can't stop and tell him how I've yearned for a gay friend to experiment with gay sex and that I'm a virgin and so forth. I'm hoping I don't sound too pathetic, but maybe my life has been pathetic. Cris has a way of listening while maintaining eye contact that makes it seem like what I'm telling him is the most interesting and important stuff he'd ever heard. Beginning with this year's experience, going backwards in my life history, I finally get to the part about my best friend who's dead, Tyler. I tell the story briefly without a lot of details, but he's astonished I'd blame myself and wonders out loud if it isn't more likely Tyler committed suicide than anything else. I reject that as impossible, but still it seems many come to that conclusion independently, although I still refuse to believe it. Then to change the subject he asks how old I was when I knew I was gay and that made me realize I'd never asked him how

he knew

I was gay? I wanted to ask, but one thing led to another and I didn't. Maybe I was afraid of the answer. I'd hate to think I'm swishing, or whatever it's called, because I've always maintained that I like boys who are gay, but are like straight boys in other ways. Not flamers, in other words.

After I assured him I was aware of my preference for boys at an early age he tells me he'd known he was gay very early in his life as well. Maybe as young as nine or ten years old. He and his parents discussed it with him endlessly and as the years went on the three of them agreed that, yes indeed, Cristobal was gay. And it was no problem. They provided all the medical information about AIDS and other medical concerns regarding homosexual sex and lots of gay literature for Cris to peruse as he wanted. It's too bad more parents of gay children don't do

the same. A

support system sure would have been nice to have, but I can't blame my parents or Christian because I was never brave enough, like Cris, to tell them I'm gay. Cris attended private schools from first grade all the way through high school, so it helps having rich parents, not all the time perhaps, but usually it does I would think. Being gay was

simply not an issue for Cris all his life, no more of an issue that

being tall or short or anything else a boy or girl might be. He'd had a wonderful childhood and wonderful life, so good for him. I don't feel jealous and I've tried not to feel sorry for myself through all my troubles. The troubles have probably made be stronger, if anything. We talk through our dinner and continue talking as Cris ran water in the bathtub wanting the two of us to take a bath together. I was a bit shy at first, although the idea of doing that is exciting beyond words. I'm not used to getting naked in front of anyone, but Cris is so casual about it, like it's the most natural thing in the world, that I just followed his lead marveling at how much more mature he is compared to me and we're basically the same age. He makes no comment about my skinny body and that's probably because he has a skinny body too... haha. We both are uncut and average size in the penise department. Nothing special to comment

on.

Nothing special to comment on until both of us are bare ass naked and he's helping me get into the tub of hot water with my sore ankle and his naked body rubs my naked body and I spring another bonner. Cris laughs so hard, as I'm blushing to beat the band. He says, "You

are the horniest guy on

the fucking planet, Oliver. Jesus Christ, relax! We got a lot of fun ahead of us, dude." That's all well and good, but my boner stays up. It floats in the water between my legs as Cris climbs in behind me and I lay back against his chest. Oh, another wonderful new feeling, another wonderful new sensation.What a fantastic senior class trip! Surprising myself, I reach down to get hold of both of Cris' wrists, then pull his arms around me. He says, "This is nice, Oliver." Cris made sure both our plastic cups of wine, and the wine bottle, are in reach. We're on the second bottle now and I'm a bit more use to drinking it, but I'm not saying it tastes any better; I can get the vial liquid down easier then I could at first, that's about it. Cris wants to hear more about Tyler. I tell him that Tyler, sexually, was very straight and he asks why I'm so sure of that, and I guess I just took

Tyler at face value that he wasn't gay. Cris tells me that lots of young gays are in denial and some of the most outspoken people against a gay life style are the ones trying to convince themselves they're not gay. I'm not knowledgable enough about it, so I say nothing and then Cris wants to

hear more about our friendship, not sex necessarily. I tell him about the choir and about our teachers every year who claimed we were both the smartest kids they'd ever had in their classroom, and I tell him about the funny stuff too, and how Tyler was always making up outlandish stuff to get me to laugh at the wrong time. As I talk we're bathing each other. Realizing how close Tyler and I were Cris is understanding of the difficulty I had dealing with his death. Telling all of this to Cristobal took a while and we're ready to get out of the tub by the time I run out of things to say. Cris pulls the plug, closes the shower curtain and turns on the shower to rinse us off. We hug under the raining shower water and it's awesome touching bare body to bare body. My boner went down some time ago, sadly.. haha.

After drying we lay naked together under the top sheet of the bed, our bodies touching. I feel comfortable being naked with Cris and maybe the wine has something to do with that. We finished both bottles and I'm feeling a little nauseous from it although Cris drank twice as much as me. He has his arms around me and I pick up his right arm and rub the back of his wrist against my nose to smell the unique, sexy odor of his skin. He snuggles with me and hugs, then kisses me, and quietly asks, "Oliver, can I be the first boy to make love to you?" It's what I've been wanting for these many years so I don't hesitate. I nod my head, quietly saying, "I hoped you'd ask, or even just do it. I told you I've been yearning for it, but I never expected it would be with someone as special as you. He smiles, saying, "Thank you for that, Oliver, can it be here, now?" I go, "Yes, please." He kisses me again, rubbing his hand on my stomach, then into my pubes giving

me shivers. Cris massages my cock and balls until my cock is hard; it doesn't take much massaging either. After stroking my boner a few timed, he explains he has a lubed condom in his jeans and then he gives me a little lecture about the importance of using condoms and claims because of his parents' insistence he's never had sex without a condom. I was hoping to feel his bare boner in me, so I shrug, then say, "Yeah, I can see that, but since I've never had sex of any kind with anybody, and you've never had sex without a condom; well, wouldn't it be safe for us to do it just this one time without a condom? If you don't want to, I'll understand. It's just that my dream about my first time never included a condom." We're laying on our backs with me using Cristobal's bicep as my pillow, and while we discuss the condom conundrum he's twirling a strand of my hair with his fingers. It's so comfortable being naked in bed with Cris, just the sheet

covering us. He thinks about it for a minute or so and then turns his head to look at me. He stares at me until I turn my head to face him with a questioning expression on my face. Smiling, he goes, "Well Oliver, sure. It makes sense the way you put it and I'm curious if it'll be much different for me. I don't think you'd notice much, if any, but I might. No condom this time, but being it's your first time we probably should use some kind of lube. You got anything we can use?" I have some greaseless vaseline that I used to keep my lips from getting chapped in the winter. It's spring now, but a half a tube of the cream is still in my toilet kit. My heart's pounding with as I hop on one foot to get it.

Back in bed Cris said, "Let me

have a

little more of those tasty, hot lips of yours, Oliver," and we begin kissing gently. Then, with Cris; cheek next to mine he whispers, "I can feel your heart beating fast and I remember how excited I was my first time too". He quietly adds, "Just lay on your side now, Oliver, and I'll put some of this lube on that tight little hole of yours." He rubs vaseline on my hole and I get even more excited and aroused, finally my wish is coming true. Finally something I'd been dreaming about for years is about to happen and along with my excitement is so worry. Worry it'll hurt or that it'll be disappointing, although I doubt very much it'll be disappointing. Shortly he works his finger up inside me and I'm already squirming from the pleasurable feeling of having his finger inside of my rectum. Just being handled like this by another boy is such a turn-on for me I need to take a deep

breath because it feels so good.

Especially because the boy doing it is Cristobal. He's working two fingers inside me and then, as I lay on my side with my knees pulled up to my chest, I feel the fat head of his cock pushing gently up against my distended anus. He applies a little more pressure and it slipped inside me. Immediately a string of pre cum drools down my boner. My mouth is open and just the knowledge that his cock is inside me has me shivering and squirming and licking my lips. My chin is soon shiny with my own spit and little moans of pleasure escape my mouth. It feels extremely tight and there is some pain, but much less than I expected and the pain's overwhelmed by the awesome feeling of finally being fucked. He pushes in ever so slowly and what a new and unique feeling it is to be so filled-up back there. It feels like Cris is sticking a foot long log in me, but I know it's barely six inches long. He's being

considerate by going very slowly and then I hear him let a lot of

air out of his lungs and grunt softly as if he too is enjoyed the feeling of my tight hole surrounded his throbbing, hard cock. I want to scream I'm so thrilled this is happening, but try for cool instead. Finally he says in a breathy voice, "Oliver, I'm all the way in you. How does it feel?" I tell him it's the strangest feeling, but I've never felt anything I liked better. He kissed the side of my face, and says, "Turn your head, Oliver, so we can kiss." As we kiss he pulls his cock out a little bit and pushed it back in and everything is feeling totally dreamy to me. Then he pulled out further and the swollen, slippery head of his cock pushes on my prostate button as he slides in and out of me. I exclaim, a little too loudly, "Oh my God, right there, Cris." then I moan, "Ahhh, oh, oh. Mmmm, mmm, right there...oh my God, Cristobal. Right there, please do it some more," as I stroke my cock with my shoulders

shuddering.

He stimulated my prostate with quick thrusts of his hard, swollen cock head and in less than

two minutes I squeal out, arch my back and hump my hips forward as cum streams out of me harder then I've ever cum before in my entire life. My cum shoots straight out of my pee slit, burning from the force of the stream. The tightening of my anus as I shot off my initial long stream of spunk causes a moan of pleasure from Cris. Then more groans of pleasure as I follow the first stream with five or six follow-up squirts. Cristobal's grunting and blowing a lot of air on the back of my head as he pumps my ass hard, faster and faster. Even after climaxing it's such a pleasurable feeling to be fucked, better than I dreamed, and I'm hoping it goes on for quite awhile. I quietly moan with pleasure and maybe three minutes later Cris humps into me hard making a desperate sound as he wraps his arm around me to hold me tight against him and he pumps his spunk up my ass doing little thrusts with only his hips. It sounds a little bit like he's in pain,

although I know he's

not. I felt his first strong cum stream explode deep inside me and after that I feel how squishy my hole is now and he adds to the squishiness as subsequent contractions squirt more of his cum inside me and I need to stroke my cock again just visualizing that. Cum drools out of my ass when he pulls his boner out breathing deeply. His face is flush as he grins at me and strokes himself. "Awesome ass, Oliver. Just fabulous!" Then I feel the sweat on Cristobal's face as he presses his face next to mine and hugs me tightly, then kisses the side of my face, asking, "How was it, Oliver?" "Only the best thing that's ever happened to me," I say, "And the most sexy and pleasurable experience of my life. It was better that my fantasies, better than I imagined it could be." He chuckles, asking, "So you enjoy it a little, huh?"

Later that night Cris fucks me

while

I

lay on my back with my knees pushed back next to my chest. He kneeled between my legs and pushed his boner inside my ass and from time to time he would lay on top of me, belly

to belly, with his hard

cock as far up inside me as he could get it and we kissed and sucked each others tongues as our bellies moved together getting all sweaty and slippery. This naturally got my twitching cock, which was squeezed between our bellies, wet and slippery with that same sweat and it was all so dreamy and erotic it boggles my mind. Almost too many pleasure sensation to keep up with. New and exciting and so sexy I can hardly control myself. Just when I'd start to think nothing could feel better than this he'd go up on his knees and hold both my legs up with a hand on each of my ankles, a foot on either side of his beautiful face, and he'd fuck me hard for a couple of minutes, then he'd pump me slowly with long deep thrusts and it all felt so slippery and yummy and perfect. We went much longer before exploding our creamy orgasms the second fuck. Cris didn't use a condom this time either and I felt the cum squeezing out around his cock, drooling

down my

buttocks, as he pumped me slowly after his big cummy climax. Truly, I've had hundreds of fantasies about a cute guy fucking me, but I never dreamed it would ever feel this good. I love looking at Cristabal as he fucks me, so later when he did me a third time, very early in the morning, he did me the same way, on my back so we could look at each other. He did deep, slow thrusts for a long time and it was the perfect erotic experience with no hurry, just that juicy sexy feeling that you hope will go on forever. But eventually there is an impossibly fabulous feeling in your groin and the ensuing climax totally overwhelms every nerve ending in your body and you try to take in as much of it as possible. Nothing in life feels as good. The third climac in six or seven hours didn't generate a great deal of spunk for me or Cristobal, but all the sensations are pretty much the same as our earlier

climaxes.

Nothing before in my life felt nearly as good as being fucked by Cristobal; nothing comes remotely close to it and I'm going to enjoy this feeling as often as I can to make up for all the years I've gone without. I love being fucked by a cute boy. I've never felt as close to another person either, as when I was having sex with Cris. Not even with Tyler, but of course Tyler and me never had sex together. Having consensual sex, wanting it and happily letting someone fuck you is obviously a very personal, private experience between two people and it creates, for me, a closeness with Cristobal I'd never felt with anyone before. The affection we felt for each other was in the air all around us. We didn't talk of love, we both know that it's too soon for real love to have developed between us, but there was that very

real

affection and it couldn't be any nicer. We really, really, really like each other. The odd fact is that if I hadn't had that

trip off the curb and sprained my ankle maybe we never

would have had the opportunity to spend those hours together in my room . Prior to me tripping, neither Cristabol nor I mentioned coming back to my hotel room. Once in the room together everything just fell into place. So, that is really the "trip" in my high school senior class trip that I'll always remember the most; the trip I had on the trip. Maybe Cris would have fucked me on campus someplace, but it wouldn't have been like this. Cristobal told me when we were in the bathtub together that he would be traveling in Europe most of the summer. The European trip was sponsored by the University and had been planned back in January. So we

won't see

each other again until next fall when I start my freshman year at the University. Cris and I are the same age as I expected, because I stayed out of the eight grade that year after Tyler's death. I wonder if we would have met, Cris and I, if I started here when I normally should have. We'd have been freshman together and wouldn't that have been something! A entire year of fucking.

After our early morning fuck we both had quickly fallen back to sleep. I wrapped my arms and legs around Cristobal and went to sleep as happy as I've ever been in my life, all my past problems forgotten. When I wake up a few hours later Cris is in the bathroom showering. I pull his pillow over and sink my face in it to smell his unique special smell. He comes out of the bathroom all shiny clean wearing a pair of my socks and a pair of my boxer shorts. He smiles at me, saying "Good morning, Oliver," then gets dressed in the T-shirt and jeans he wore yesterday and came over to the bed. He says, "Parting is such sweet sorrow, Oliver. What the hell does that mean anyway? Wish I could come up with the right words to express how wonderful this has been for me, but I'm not much good with words. Just let me say that in the short time I've known you it's obvious to me that you are a very special person and I'd like to continue to get to know you

better. I've had sex with only three boys, you being the third, Oliver. You mean much more to me already than the other two put together. You and me have something together that is extra special, so please don't forget me over the summer. I'm looking forward to the fall when I'll be back here at the University with you. I can't wait to see your cute face and kiss you again." He bends down to me as I lay in bed, my eyes stuck on him, and he kisses my forehead holding the kiss for a while.

I get the stutters again when I tried to speak and Christobal put his finger gently on my two lips and says.."Shhhh, don't say anything, Oliver. You'll have me crying. I know how you feel about me and it's right back at you. Kiss me goodbye, Oliver, and remember, goodbye doesn't have to mean forever, and with us it most certainly does not. It means we'll see each other in a few months." We kiss a sweet kiss and he walks out the door without looking back. I lay there hugging his pillow thinking that dreams do come come true. And for the first time in as long as I can remember, I'm looking forward to all my tomorrows again.

to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com

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