Zinger

A gay story: Zinger Part One

I met Teddy Azinger – “Zinger” to almost everyone who knew him – the first day of my freshman year in high school. Zinger was the BMOC from get go. He looked older than the rest of us, and he had the bluest eyes any of us had ever seen. They were shockingly, almost frighteningly, blue. If I had not known differently, I’d have thought they were fake. They were that liquid. And, they danced when he smiled, which was almost all the time. Zinger had a big, broad smile, framed by full, red lips. And, it was simultaneously knowing and mysterious. Zinger may not have had a tiger by the tail, but he sure acted like he did.

For the next four years, he listened to music none of us had heard of, mixed drinks none of had tasted, and took drugs none of us could have gotten our hands on. And, he had whatever “it” is that makes people say “he has it.” I do not know what that is, as I have never had “it.” I have always been a little too furtive, a little too eager to please, a little too enthusiastic, a little too harried.

Zinger was none of those things. He was casual, always seemed comfortable, languid almost, and never hurried. He sat back and soaked it all in. He moved slowly and surely. He seemed like he knew stuff none of us knew, like he had experienced things none of us had, or ever would.

For most of high school, I hovered near Zinger’s orbit. Both smart, we shared most classes. We studied together a little. We hung out together a little every now and then. We were friendly, but we were not really friends. I was the kind of person he nodded to in the hallway, not the kind of person he stopped to talk to.

Too many times, he caught me staring at him. Often, it was at his eyes. More often, it was at his body. Zinger was a committed runner and weight lifter, and his body thickened, thinned, and developed throughout high school. While I stayed small and shapeless, he filled out beautifully. By the time we were 18 year old seniors, he was 6 feet tall, weighed 180 pounds, and had virtually no body fat. He was both muscular and lean. He had masculine hands and feet that he kept up properly. The only thing that separated him from Adonis was the mat of hair that covered his chest and the path that flowed from it into his pants. I loved that mat and that path. I desperately wanted to follow it. I hoped with all I was that he did not sense my desperation.

Spring semester of our senior year, the Honors German students who could afford it traveled for three weeks to Germany. In our group, there were three boys and nine girls. Once we got to Frankfurt, we were joined by two groups from Minnesota, one from Blaine and one from Jackson. We shared the same bus and hotels for our three week trip.

The first night, we were in Rothenberg, a small village with a wall surrounding it. Zinger asked me to walk the wall with him. I went. It was snowing and beautiful, and it took us a long time to circumnavigate the village. Our walk was oddly intimate, as we both talked, but also felt no need to fill the stillness with talk. It made no sense to that Zinger had invited me, not his friend Steve or one of the girls who was pining for him. When the walk was over, Zinger shook my hand.

“I really enjoyed that,” he said as he smiled into me.

“Me, too,” I responded as I smiled back.

By design, Frau Lucinda put me, Zinger, and Steve in the same room that night. Surprisingly, the room had only a king bed, so we would be sleeping three across. Germany had no drinking age, so we were likely to be too drunk to care.

All of us went out. The German barkeepers responded to the American invasion with David Bowie’s “This is not America.” Zinger drank German beer all night. I did not like beer, much less warm, bitter beer. So, I drank vodka and orange juice. Steve did not drink at all.

By the time we returned to the room, Zinger and I were smashed. We both tugged off our shirts, pulled off our jeans, and collapsed onto the bed, wearing only our traditional white briefs. Steve climbed in to my right, leaving me in the middle.

Steve was objectively better looking than Zinger. He was a long-distance runner, and he had long, sinewy muscles that were covered in light blonde hair. He also had a chiseled jaw beneath dark brown eyes and wavy blonde hair. When he was out of school, he looked like a surfer. When he was in school, he looked like a scion.

But, Steve never moved me the way Zinger did. Steve just did not have “it.” I would have blown him, but I was not hungry for him.

The hotel’s steam heating system was banging away, and our room was hotter than Hades. Being drunk teenagers in Germany, we made lame gas chamber jokes and then laughed our asses off before passing out. When I woke up at 5 or so, I was covered in sweat. So, I kicked the covers off all of us. I immediately noticed that Zinger had his right hand tucked into his white briefs and was holding his dick. I watched him the rest of the night, as every once and again he gripped and then released his hard on. The next day, everyone assumed I was hung over, and I probably was. But, mostly, I was tired from watching Zinger squeeze and release his dick, when I should have gone back to sleep.

Two nights later, we were in a room with three twin beds. Only there were four of us: Me, Steve, Zinger, and Katie, a blonde from Jackson. Katie was in bed with Zinger. And, from the sound of it, she was having a good time. Zinger had the decency to wait until he thought Steve and I were asleep, but I had only pretended to be. Not long after he whispered my name without answer, I heard Zinger whisper “slip your panties off.” Then, I heard some shifting around before Katie gasped, which I took to mean Zinger’s hard dick had entered her. The room was too dark for me to see exactly what was going on, but it was light enough that I figured out that Katie had her legs almost straight up in the air as Zinger fucked her. As he did, her breathing quickened, and she started to make small, ragged noises. I gripped my own dick, imagining I was the one he was fucking. Listening to the slap of his dick slamming into her wet pussy, I was not going to last long. When Katie muttered “oh . . . oh . . . oh,” I shot. When she whimpered “yes yes,” I shot again. When Zinger grunted, I could almost feel his orgasm building in my own balls, and I shot a third time. Zinger collapsed onto Katie, exhaling loudly as he did. Before too long, she climbed out of the bed, and went to the bathroom to clean herself up. After she had, Zinger rolled onto his side and stared in my direction. For some reason, I thought he was staring right at me, and that he knew I had jacked off to the sound of him fucking Katie. But, I hoped not.

The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful. We toured during the day, drank ourselves silly at night, and passed out drunk here and there, only to repeat the same general pattern the next day. It was that way in Salzberg. It was that way in Heidelberg. It was that way in Munich.

It was that way until the last night, in Frankfurt. That night, we stayed sober, as we had a very early flight home the next morning, and none of us were seasoned flyers. Hungover for an 8 hour flight seemed like a bad plan.

As we checked into our hotel room, we were beat from a trip of drunken debauchery. Our room had one full bed and one twin bed. Steve immediately claimed the twin, leaving Zinger and me to share the full. When we climbed into bed in only our underwear, Zinger did what he normally did, sliding his hand into his briefs and gripping his dick. I had to ask.

“What’s the deal with that?”

“I like to hold my dick as I go to sleep.”

“Every night?”

“Every night.”

After Steve flipped the light out, Zinger leaned his face close to my ear. “You can hold it tonight if you want.”

I had no idea how to respond. I was gay, but I thought I was the only person in the world who knew that. I longed to touch a dick other than my own, but I feared the blowback if anyone ever found out I had. I was not the most popular kid in school, but I also was not an outcast. If people found out I was gay, then I would be. Gay was not okay at my high school, which was the kind of place that rewarded conformity and disdained difference of any kind. With all that swirling through my head in the split second I had to respond, I ignored Zinger and pretended to be asleep. When I woke up, it was light, and Zinger’s hand was still in his underwear and holding his dick. I wondered if I had missed my chance.

Part Two

We caught our flight, and hopscotched our way back to our Missouri town. Neither Zinger nor I mentioned our last night in Frankfurt, at least not until we were in Minnesota together later that summer.

During the remainder of our senior year, Zinger and Katie kept in touch via long distance and letters (this was before cell phones, email, text messages, and snapchats). Mid-summer, Zinger suggested a trip to Minnesota to “catch up” with (i.e. fuck) our friends.

Steve could not get off work, and we did not invite any of the girls to go. So, after work the Thursday before the 4th of July, he and I took my mother’s featureless (no radio, no A/C) red Escort and started the 10 hour drive north to Jackson, MN. I had not seen Zinger since graduation, almost two months before. Freed from our high school’s grooming strictures, he had let his sandy blond hair grow long, and he had it pushed back behind his ears. His face was stubbly with whiskers. And, his eyes were the clear blue that comes with carelessness and rest. Years later, I realized he looked exactly like Curt Cobain would. He was hot. Sexy. Intoxicatingly so.

A few hours into the trip, I noticed that Zinger’s grey gym shorts were tenting. He noticed me noticing.

“Sorry. It happens when I am a car. I should have worn underwear.”

“No worries.”

I was driving, so I needed to keep my eyes on the road ahead. But, I found that virtually impossible, as I could see in the periphery Zinger’s hard dick down the right leg of his shorts. Periodically, he pushed down on it as hard as he could. It did not go down.

When we stopped for gas, he hopped out of the car and bounced inside, his hands covering his hard on. After pumping gas, I went to the bathroom. I saw his shoes under one of the stalls. From the slapping I could hear, it was clear he was jacking off, and pretty rapidly. I stayed at the urinal as long as I could, listening to him jerk his dick and his breath coming hard. I got hard as I listened. I left before he came, although I did not want to. I waited as long as long as I could, but I did not want to get caught.

When he got back in the car, he announced, “I should be alright now. At least for awhile.” He smiled at me as I said it.

“Why?”

“You know. You just listened to me jack off.”

I blushed crimson.

The rest of the drive to Jackson was tedious. As it got late, we both got very tired. We stayed awake by talking. Zinger shared his life with me, both where he had been and where he wanted and thought he would go. He shared his secrets with me, both good and bad. And, I shared my life with him, both where I had been and where I hoped I was going. I also shared my secrets with him, including childhood secrets I had not shared with anyone else. I laid myself bare. It was way more intimate than I had been with anyone else, and way more intimate than I expected on a drive in an Escort to Minnesota. It was an echo to our walk around Rothenberg.

We rolled into Jackson well past midnight. We were staying at Cari’s, and she put us in her divorced mother’s room, where we would share her king-sized water bed. We were both beat, but it still took time to wind down. We continued talking. As we did, I noted that Zinger had his hand in his briefs. As always. I fell asleep as we talked, imagining what he was feeling with that hand.

We slept long into July 3. When we awoke, we joined Cari in the kitchen, and Zinger got a surprise. Katie, who he was looking to spend the weekend fucking, had a new boyfriend and so would be off-limits.

Still, Katie joined the rest of our friends at Cari’s that afternoon for a pool party. Zinger was surly from the get go. He clearly wanted to get laid, and he was pissed he was misled into driving 10 hours only to be thwarted.

I, on the other hand, was having a blast. It was July 3rd, it was only 80 degrees, there was an unlimited supply of beer, and the boys were mostly naked, showing off their muscled chests, perfect nipples, and rippled stomachs. I spent most of the day in the water. I barely saw Zinger.

Having started very early, the party broke up when everyone got hungry. Cari grilled burgers for the small group of us left over, which included her, me, Zinger, and Darryl, a somewhat unkempt dude who seemed cool as shit. After the burgers and a few more beers, Cari and Darryl joined hands and headed into the house. It was obvious they were going to fuck. Their exit left me and Zinger poolside, alone.

“Do you smoke?” he asked.

“No, my mom smokes, and it has always grossed me out. I can’t stand the things.”

“Pot, dork. Not cigarettes.”

“Oh. No, I never have.”

“Wanna try?”

“I dunno. I kind of thought that was something I would never do.”

“Suit yourself, but you live only once. At least, that is what they teach us. I have nothing on my list of ‘something I would never do.’ I want to do it all.”

With that, Zinger stood up, walked to the shallow end of the pool, dangled his legs over the edge, and lit a joint. He raised it to his mouth and inhaled deeply. As far as I could tell, he never exhaled.

I stood up, adjusted my trunks, walked the length of pool, and sat down next to him. I touched my foot to his as I dangled my legs in the water. He did not pull his foot away. Instead, he offered me the joint again.

“Just try it, dork.”

“What do I do?”

“Hold it to your mouth, suck in as deeply as you can, and then hold your breath for as long as you can.”

I tried. I choked and coughed almost instantly, expelling the smoke almost as fast I tried to take it in. Zinger laughed, his smile illuminating his crazy blue eyes.

“Here, I’ll help you.”

He put the joint backward in his mouth, put his hand on the back of my head, and moved his face toward mine. For some reason, I opened my mouth, and he put the small end of the joint in my mouth. When I closed my mouth, our lips touched. He blew out, and my mouth filled with smoke. I started to swallow, but then stopped and just breathed in, as deeply as I could. I felt the smoke fill me. I held it as long as I could. I wanted to exhale, but my lips were still pressed to his, and I was not about to pull away. We were not kissing, but we were also not not kissing. He opened his eyes and looked into mine. I looked back, deeply. I held the look as long as I could, before I finally pulled away, choking.

“Congratulations on your first shotgun, dork.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

Zinger took another long drag off the joint and handed it to me. I dragged back, coughing again, violently. Soon, the joint was almost gone, and he pulled out another.

“Let’s move to the deck.”

“Okay.”

We stood, pulling our legs out of the pool. We walked to the deck and plopped down in two lounge chairs. He dragged and then passed me the joint. I dragged and passed it back. He put the lit end in his mouth and leaned over for another shotgun. I moved my face to meet his, and I put my hand around the back of his neck. I made sure we were lip to lip before he delivered my second shotgun. I took it all in, as deeply as I could. Our lips remained together. He pulled away, removed the joint, said “blow it back,” and put his mouth back to mine. I opened my mouth a little, and blew the smoke back into his. He inhaled it. He pulled back and held it in. Our faces were close. He leaned forward, I opened my mouth, and he blew what remained of the smoke back into my mouth. I was titillated. And rock hard.

We finished the joint like that, trading smoke back and forth and back and forth. When the joint was gone, he got up, walked away, and returned with two vodkas. Mine burned the shit out of me, high or not. He sipped his, casually, coolly.

We both laid back in our chairs, totally relaxed, staring at the equally dark and starry sky. Neither of us spoke.

I was both drunk and high. I suspected he was, too. I am not sure I had ever been more relaxed.

“Let’s swim.”

“Okay.”

He stood up and pulled his trunks off as he walked toward the pool. The moon lit his ass as his hips swung. Nude when he got to the pool, he jumped in. I followed, jumping in with my trunks still on.

“Have you ever skinny dipped?”

“Nope.”

“Take your trunks off. Being naked in the water is awesome.”

“I’m okay.”

“Take your trunks off, dork.”

I swam to the shallow end and did as I was told, dumping my trunks on the edge of the pool. Then, I turned and swam back toward him. He was right. Swimming nude was awesome. I felt completely free, the water caressing my dick and balls. We treaded water in the deep end for awhile. When I got tired, I swam to the side, and rested the back of my head against it, my arms spread wide beside me. Zinger followed me. He grabbed the side of the pool, his hands on either side of me. He was right in front of me. He had me trapped. He stared at me and smiled. I stared back for as long as I could, smiling back at him. I finally looked away. I was rock hard.

“Let’s go inside.”

“Are you sure? It’s fantastic out here.” I stalled. I did not want to climb out of the pool with a hard on he was sure to see.

“I’m sure.” He moved to the side and pulled himself out of the pool, exposing his beautiful ass as he did. When he was out, I swam to the shallow end, clambered out as fast as I could, and wrapped a towel around me in a futile attempt to conceal my rock hard dick. Zinger walked toward me from the other end of the pool. He, too, was rock hard, but he did not care that I saw it. He seemed to want me to see it. He seemed to be flaunting it.

I had not seen his dick hard before. It was awesome. As suspected, he was a shower. His dick was big and thick and pretty, curving gently up. I wanted it. More than I had ever wanted anything.

He picked his towel up, wrapped it around his neck, and walked toward the house, his dick leading the way and his ass swaying in front of me. I followed.

When we got to the room, Zinger moved toward his gym bag, dug out a pair of briefs, and tugged them on. When he turned around, it was clear his dick was still hard, sticking up and to the right, with the head visible above the elastic band. He smiled at me, turned, and went into the bathroom. As he brushed his teeth, I dropped my towel, put on a pair of boxers, and pulled on an undershirt. I could not sleep shirtless.

When Zinger finished in the bathroom, I took my turn. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and – just in case – smelled my arm pits. They were fine. I turned out the light and returned to the room. Zinger was sitting on the bed, his back to the headboard and the sheet draped over his crotch.

I climbed into the bed, jostling him with the “waves” I created. Once in, I sat like he was, as close to him as I could without being too obvious.

“Are you high?” he asked.

“Yep.”

“Me, too. But, I could go a little higher.”

With that, he lit another joint and sucked in as much as he could. He offered it to me, but I declined. I had had all the pot I thought I should. After another couple drags, Zinger licked his finger, extinguished the joint, and returned it to his “fun bag.”

We sat in silence against the tufted headboard. After a bit, he looked over at me and smiled.

“How’s your high, dork?”

“I am having a very good time.”

“Me, too.” He paused. “My only problem is pot gives me the munchies. And makes me horny.”

“I can help with at least one of those.” I got up, went to the kitchen, and returned with an open bag of Chips Ahoys. We quickly devoured the dozen or so that were left.

“I’m still horny as hell.”

I flashed back to Frankfurt. I may have missed my chance there. I did not want to miss it again, but I was helpless and hopeless as to what to do. I turned my head toward him. He smiled at me, and I noticed his right hand was on his dick, and it was hard, partially out of his briefs, and pointed straight at his navel.

He beat me to it.

“You want to help with this, too?”

I froze. “Uh, I don’t think so.”

“C’mon, you have been staring at me for four years, you watched me fuck that chick in Laposky’s room, you jerked off while I fucked Katie, and you listened to me jack off just yesterday. You definitely want to help me.”

“I am not gay.”

“I did not say you were, and I do not care if you are. I just want to get off, and I’d prefer you do it. But, I can do it myself.”

“Fire away.”

With that, he raised his hips, pulled down his briefs, and started to stroke his long, thick dick right in front of me. I should not have stared, but I did. I could not not stare.

“Last chance,” he offered.

I stared at his dick. It was awesome, lengthened to 8+ inches, thicker than my wrist, and curved toward his navel.

My throat was too dry to speak, so I just reached for his dick, tentatively. Zinger pulled his hand away and let me take it. It was thicker than it looked. It was hot to my touch. As I watched my hand move up and down, he pulled my head toward his hairy chest and pressed me tightly to it. When he released the pressure, I licked his right nipple gently, then eagerly started sucking it. At the same time, I continued to jerk his thick dick. Before long, his breath became ragged, and I could feel his orgasm build in his throbbing dick. When I bit his nipple, he came in white arcs. The first hit his chin and neck. The next two hit his chest. The next hit his stomach. And, the last dribbled out of his bulbous head onto my hand.

I could not believe it. I had just swum naked with and then jacked Teddy Azinger. I had gone higher, too.

I wanted to taste his cum, but I feared he would think me freakish – and gay – if I did. So, I just lay with my head on his chest, still holding his softening dick.

“That was awesome. Did you enjoy it?

“I did.”

“You could have done all of that in Frankfurt.”

“I thought maybe. But, I did not know.”

“I said, ‘you can hold it tonight if you want.’ How were you confused?”

“I thought maybe it was a trap.”

“Do you feel trapped now?”

“No, not at all.”

We sat in silence for awhile. He broke the silence, “I’m beat. I will see you in the morning.” With that, he turned his back to me, fluffed his pillow, and settled in to sleep, his hairy chest and stomach still covered with his cum. I moved to my side and did the same, my back to him. Before falling asleep, I licked and sucked his dry cum off my hand. It was delicious.

Part Three

The next day was the 4th. Again, Zinger and I slept in. When we awoke, he was still naked, and we were both sporting “morning wood.” Zinger spit in his hand, grabbed his dick, and started stroking it. I looked from his dick to his face. He was looking back at me, smiling.

When he started jerking harder, I moved toward him. Leaning on my left arm, I grabbed his balls with my right hand and started playing with them. He spread his legs a little. As I continued to play with his balls, he quickened his hand on his dick, and spread his legs farther apart.

He raised his hips. “Play with my ass.” Not certain what he meant, I started rubbing his ass cheeks.

“Play with my asshole, dork.”

“Oh.”

Not sure how to, I rubbed his sphincter up and down with one finger like I had rubbed Cathi Summers’ pussy in 10th grade. It must have been right, as he let out a light moan and jerked his dick harder.

“Finger me.”

“What?”

“Finger me. Lick your finger, and stick it in my ass.”

I was vexed, but I did what I was told. My finger tasted funky when I put it in my mouth, but it was not really a bad funky. I coated it with spit, reached down, and pushed the tip into his ass.

“Go a little deeper.”

I did as directed, pressing my finger into the first knuckle.

“Don’t be shy. Push it all the way in.”

I did as he requested. His ass was warm and smooth, almost velvety. I am not sure what I expected, but this was not it. I swirled my finger around. Before long, he gasped as his ass clenched and he shot a string of cum onto his face and neck, then two more strings onto his chest, and yet another string onto his stomach. It was almost the same load as the night before.

I kept my finger where it was, feeling his orgasm from the inside. Watching and feeling him come was too much, and I came in my boxers without even touching myself. I do not know whether Zinger knew I had.

When we had both calmed down, he caught me looking at the splattering of cum caught in the hair on his chest and stomach. Smiling at me, he took his right hand, scooped a healthy portion onto his index finger, and slipped his finger into his mouth, his brilliant blue eyes fixed on mine the whole time. He sucked his finger, then swallowed his own cum, smiling. Then he said “thanks,” rocked off the water bed, and headed to the shower. I threw myself back on the bed and tried to figure out just what was going on.

Part Four

The 4th of July was much like the 3rd. Cari’s pool was packed with mostly 18 year old kids who did not have a care in the world, except maybe that we would run out of beer. From the number of coolers poolside, that seemed unlikely.

I loved water, so I spent most of the day in the pool, swimming with and talking to friends and to Philip, Katie’s new boyfriend. Philip was pretty, much as Matt Bomer is pretty today. You know the type: teeth a little too white and straight, hair a little too styled, jaw a little too chiseled. He was a little like a flavored beer. At first glance, he was tasty. But, the more you looked, the more cloying he became.

I had not seen Zinger for over an hour or so. Just as I noticed his absence, he returned to the pool area. I could tell from the look on his face that he had been up to no good. He slid into the pool next to me. He reeked of pot.

“Where’ve you been?”

“Smoking . . . and fucking.”

“Fucking?” A knot balled in my stomach. “Who?”

“That pretty boy’s girlfriend. While you were fucking around with him in the water, I was fucking her in the water . . . bed.” He had smiled widely as he paused, presumably for dramatic effect.

The knot in my stomach tightened. I am not sure what I thought was going on, but the idea that he had fucked Katie in “our” bed upset me terribly. I fought back tears until I had to slip underwater to hide them. I stayed down as long as I could. Before I drowned myself, I swam across the pool, pulled myself out of the water, and headed off. I did not look back.

I needed to clear my head, so I went for a slightly drunken run. I knew Zinger and I were not boyfriends, but I also did not expect him to have sex with me in the morning and then a girl in the afternoon. Not that we had really had sex. We had not kissed. He had not touched me. I had basically serviced him. Actually, I had basically done only what he told me to do.

I avoided Zinger when my run was over, and I turned in not long after the guests had left. Zinger did not join me for a long time. Still, I was wide awake when he came into the room, stripped to his briefs, and climbed into bed.

“You awake?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“What was today about?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“I do, dork. So talk.”

“Fine. At first, I was hurt that you had hooked up with Katie. I felt betrayed, which I now realize was totally fucked up. I think I was thinking that what we did last night and this morning meant more than it did. I think I let my imagination get ahead of the facts. During my run, I realized I was being ridiculous. We had not done anything last night or this morning. I had basically serviced you. When I realized that, I started feeling a bit used.”

“I thought you weren’t gay.”

“I’m not.”

“And, used? I had offered myself to you when we were in Germany. I thought you would enjoy it, and I was curious about you.”

“I’m over it.”

“You don’t seem like it.”

“Well, I am.”

We lay there in silence for awhile. I felt ridiculous.

I broke the uncomfortable silence. “You got any more pot?”

“Nope, I finished it all off about 20 minutes ago outside.” After a pause, “I have something else, though.”

“What?”

“A pill. Ecstasy. You want one?”

“What does it do?”

“A lot. It makes you bounce.”

I needed a mood changer. I held my hand out. He did not give me the pill. Instead, he put it on his tongue and lowered his mouth to mine. I grimaced.

He pulled back, removed it briefly, and said, “This is how it’s done. Take it, dork.”

He replaced it and came back toward me. I took it, our tongues touching as I did. My resolve evanesced with the touch.

I felt nothing for some time. We leaned against the headboard staring forward and breathing. Just when I thought I was immune to the effects of X, a feeling of peace and warmth overwhelmed me. Zinger followed right behind me.

He looked at me. “Are you there?”

“I am.”

“Awesome, in’t it?”

“Yep.”

With that, he leaned toward me, whispered “sorry about today,” and placed his mouth on mine. I was totally caught off guard. As he opened his mouth, I did, too, and our tongues touched again. A jolt shot through me. I had heard from girls that Zinger was our school’s best kisser. I doubt any of them had kissed him while X’ing. Jolts kept shooting through me as our tongues danced. His lips were full but firm. His tongue was wet but not sloppy. He sucked my tongue, nibbled at it, and sucked it some more. It was the most perfect kiss, and it did not seem like it was ever going to end. Just when I thought I would rather pass out than break that kiss, he pulled back.

“I hope that makes up a little bit for what you were feeling. Now, take your clothes off.”

“What?”

“Get naked, dork,” he insisted as he tugged on my boxers.

“Are you going to take yours off?”

He answered by standing on the bed, pulling down his briefs, and stepping out of them. Jostled by the water bed, he lost his footing and fell on me.

“Hi there,” he said, as he moved over me and kissed me again. He hooked the band of my boxers in both his hands and tugged them them down as he did. I broke the kiss, but only to pull my undershirt over my head. He got up, stood at the end of the bed, pulled my boxers the rest of the way off, and then pulled me flat by my feet. Standing at the foot of the bed, he cupped he slid his dick between my feet and pretended to fuck them. His dick was slick with precum, and his thrusting slicked my feet with it. When he stopped, he bent down and licked the stickiness off my feet. I was ticklish, and I had never had anyone lick my feet before. The sensation was only enhanced by the X. It was torture, and I squirmed so much I feared I might kick his face. Just when I thought I could not take anymore, he stopped and started to crawl up me, licking my calves, then my thighs.

When he got to my rock hard dick, he stopped. I was neither as long nor as thick as he was, but I was also not small. My “little boy dick” was now an average sized “man dick.”

He took what I had in his mouth, going all the way to the base. I could not believe what was happening. I felt like I was on fire, and I knew I would not last long. As he sucked me, he grabbed my balls with his right hand and squeezed. I felt my orgasm start to build in his hand.

“I’m gonna come,” I pleaded.

He kept right on sucking, taking me deeper and faster as he did.

“I’m gonna come,” I warned, more insistently. When he did not stop, I unloaded in his mouth. He swallowed and kept going. I unloaded again and again. Each time, he swallowed and kept going. I was drained and hyper-sensitive, but he just kept going until I had to force him to stop.

He resumed his trek, licking his way up the rest of my body. I tingled from head to toe. When he sucked my left nipple, I almost could not bear it. When he licked under my arms, I almost cried out.

He kept coming. He licked my clavicle. Then, he licked my neck. My neck is naturally sensitive. On X, my neck was super-sensitive. I cringed.

He kept coming. He sucked my chin. He kissed my eyes. Then, he planted his mouth on mine. He took my breath away, plunging his tongue into my mouth, grabbing my tongue with his teeth, and sucking it back into his mouth. As he did, I gripped his ass and forced his hard dick into my soft one. I felt like I was under a waterfall.

He kept going, sliding up me until he was kneeling in front of my face. I took his beautiful dick into my mouth. He curved the wrong way for the angle, but he did not seem to mind. He moaned, grabbed the back of my head, and started fucking my mouth. I grabbed his hips and tried to control his thrusts. I could not, but he settled into a tolerable rhythm. It was hard to tell whether I was sucking his dick or he was fucking my face. I did not care. I was tumbling.

His pace quickened. I tried to devour him. He grabbed my head with both his hands. I hungrily met him. He drove himself in as far as he could. With my hands on his ass, I tried to drive him deeper.

I thought I would gag. He drove deeper. I felt full. He pulled back, and then he drove deeper still.

My dick was hard as a rock. I grabbed it with my right hand, still using my left hand to control his depth.

He came hard. I gagged on his cum, and some ran out of my mouth. I recovered and swallowed just in time to receive another shot. I swallowed again.

I came. Hard. It hit his back and ass. He shot again. I swallowed again, easily. I shot, again hitting his backside. He shot again, and I did, too. We both kept coming until we could not come any more.

Spent, he sat back on my hips, exhaled deeply, and lowered his head to my left shoulder. I held his head with both hands. Then, I ran my hands down his back, smearing my cum. I brought my hand to my mouth and tasted myself. He lowered his face to mine, licked his cum off my cheek, and kissed me deeply. Our cum mixed as he did.

I adjusted myself so I was flat. He lowered himself onto me, then raised up, staring into my eyes. I smiled. He smiled back. Then, he lowered his mouth to mine and kissed me some more. I hungrily kissed back. I hooked my legs around his. We kissed and kissed and kissed.

“I am not using you.”

“I know.”

He kissed again.

“Can I fuck you?”

“I dunno. Can I fuck you?”

“If I can fuck you first, dork.”

I hesitated. “Deal.”

“I need to rest a little first.”

“Me, too.”

He rolled off of me and we lay on the bed side by side. The moon through the window illuminated his hairy chest. I rolled onto my side and started to run my hands through his chest hair and down his trail. I started at his left nipple, moved to the right, moved to his navel, and then moved to his dick. He hardened.

“Raise your arm.” He put his arms behind his head, revealing hairy, hollow pits. I buried my face in his left pit as I continued to play with his dick and balls. I inhaled deeply. He smelled of chlorine, sweat, and sex. I inhaled deeply again. The combination of smells was intoxicating. Then, he pulled me to him. He was hard in my hand. I was hard against his leg.

“Let’s fuck,” he insisted

He rolled off the bed, walked to his bag, and returned with condoms and lube. He gave me the condom, so I tore it open with my teeth, and rolled it onto his hard dick. I had never put a condom on myself, much less on someone else. It was hot.

He lubed his dick and then told me to roll over. I did. Before I knew what was happening, he spread my ass checks and lowered his face to my asshole. He started rimming me. I thought I might combust. I wanted him to stop. I wanted him never to stop. I wanted to scream. I wanted never to make another noise.

I did not have to decide what to do. Before I did, his tongue penetrated me, and he ate my ass hard. While he pushed in, I pushed back. I was a virgin. Still, the sensation made me hungry for him.

“Fuck me,” I insisted.

“Be patient. I have to get you ready.” He squirted a glob of lube in my ass crack, then used his fingers to prepare me. It was uncomfortable, but I was needy for what it portended.

He licked his way back up until he was on my back. He whispered, “Help me in.”

I reached behind me, grabbed his dick, and placed him at my opening. His head was next to mine. I turned to him, and he kissed me hard.

I said “Go.”

He pushed hard. I naturally resisted, but he forced his head in. I feared it would hurt a lot, but it was not as bad as I feared. Maybe the X softened it all.

I was about to burst. “Go.”

He lowered his hands to my hips, told me to take a deep breath (I did), and pushed. I inhaled deeply as he slid in. I am not sure I have ever felt that full. It felt like he was in my throat.

“Shhhh. Take a deep breath and relax.”

Both are easier said than done, especially when you have a dick in your ass for the first time. I breathed as deeply as I could and held it. I tried to imagine I was relaxed. I was not.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t hold back.”

He pulled out and pushed back in, slowly, again and again. It ached. Then, it didn’t.

He started fucking me in earnest. He raised himself up on his arms for leverage, then pushed my legs apart with his knees. He started to go faster, fucking me like an animal, and I wanted him to stop. Then, I wanted him to fuck me harder. Then, I wanted him to fuck me forever. Then, I wanted to watch his face as he came inside me.

“Stop,” I demanded, as he dripped sweat on my back and ass.

“What?”

“Stop. I want to watch you.”

I forced him out of me and flipped over. He was wet with sweat. He smiled as I guided him back inside me. He leaned down and kissed me as he started to fuck me again. I have never felt more vulnerable or more invulnerable.

“I am about to come.”

“Come on my face.” I had no idea where that came from.

He pulled out, ripped the condom off, arched his back, and used his hand to come at me. Some hit my face. Most hit my chest and stomach. I gathered what hit my face and ate it. He continued to stroke his dick. To my surprise, he announced, “I’m coming again.”

I slid forward and took the head of his dick in my mouth. He shot, and I swallowed it all. When he was done, he collapsed onto his side. I positioned myself next to him, and kissed him.

“I can taste myself.”

“You taste awesome.”

“So do you.” He closed his eyes, like he was going to go to sleep. But, we were not finished.

“I still get to fuck you.” I moved my face toward his, and we kissed a kiss that poets write about. It was simultaneously tender and hungry and gentle and reckless. It took his fatigue away. He rolled me on top of him.

“Grab the condom off the nightstand and put it on me.”

“You don’t need it.”

“At least get me the lube.”

“You don’t need that, either.”

He spit in his hand, and rubbed it on my dick. He spit in his hand again, and rubbed it on his asshole. Then, he grabbed my dick and lined me up. I pushed, and he opened to me. A neophyte, I did not know how to control myself, and I went all the way in. He gasped and said, “Hold it right there. Give me a little time to get used to this.”

After a bit, he raised his legs higher, grabbed my ass, and said, “okay, now fuck me.” I did as he demanded, forcing myself into him as deeply as I could. He used his hands on my ass to control my pace. When he was ready, he removed them, and I naturally speeded up. I started panting. So did he. I started sweating. So did he. I could not last. I had never fucked anyone.

“I’m about to come.”

“Don’t pull out. Come inside me.”

With a deep thrust, I came and came, filling him. He was jerking his own dick, and he came, too, splashing cum all over his stomach.

Smiling at him, I lowered myself and ate as much cum off his stomach as I could. With his cum still on my tongue, I kissed him. He devoured me, clamping my face to his with his hands. We kissed and kissed and kissed some more. He pulled his head from mine.

“We need to sleep. We have a long drive tomorrow.”

He turned off the light and turned back toward me. He was on his right side, I was on my left, and we were sharing a pillow. Our faces were close. I moved enough that our lips were touching. We fell asleep kissing.

Part Five

When I woke up, Zinger was holding me, his morning wood right between my ass cheeks. He kissed my neck and rubbed my chest. He rolled away, I heard a tube click open, and he was back. He pushed his left hand between my ass checks, smearing it with wetness. His dick pushed against my ass. He wanted to fuck me again, and I wanted him to fuck me again. I rolled over on my stomach, and raised up on all fours. He scrambled behind me and pushed his dick at me. Without the X to cushion it, the penetration hurt like hell. I thought I was going to cleave in two. He forced himself all the way in. He stayed there. When he felt me relax, he pulled out slowly, then pushed back in just as slowly. He knew what he was doing. He reached around and took me in his hand. The pain started to ebb and was replaced with the dual pleasure of him simultaneously stroking my ass and my dick. Sweat broke out all over my body. I was close. He slammed into me as deeply as he could. As he did, he said “oh fuck.” He was coming. The feeling of him coming inside me was too much, and I came also. He slowly fucked his last drops into me, and slowly jerked my last drops out of me. I collapsed onto the bed, and he fell on top of me. He licked my cum off his hand, then turned my head so he could kiss me. I tasted myself in the kiss. He pulled back.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“It’s almost 9. We need to get going.”

We loaded the Escort and headed back to Missouri. As we drove, I confessed “I have never done any of that before.”

“I have.”

“No kidding.”

“I like sex. . . . A lot.”

“You’re good at it.”

“Practice makes perfect.”

“Actually, practice make permanent, not perfect.”

“You really are a dork.”

“Guilty. But, where did you get practice?”

“I do not discuss such things. You shouldn’t either.”

“Have you practiced with a lot of guys?”

“I do not discuss such things. You shouldn’t either.”

He anticipated my confusion about what was going on.

“I am not going to be your boyfriend. But, we can fuck around until we head off to college next month.”

“Who said I wanted a boyfriend?”

He looked at me and smiled. I could get lost in that smile. I definitely wanted a boyfriend. And, he knew it.

He took the first shift driving. About three hours into the trip, I noticed he was hard, his dick again extended down the right leg of his grey gym shorts. He noticed me noticing.

“You should have worn underwear.”

“They’d have gotten in the way.”

“Of what?”

Without answering, he pulled the leg of his shorts up, exposing his hard dick. “I thought maybe you’d blow me while I drive, dork.”

I was thrilled. I unbuckled my seat belt, adjusted my position, and took his dick into my mouth. I added my right hand as an extension of my mouth. I started working his dick.

“Slow down. It’s a long drive.”

I did as instructed. I sucked the head of his dick, lolling it around in my mouth and teasing it with my tongue. I took as much of him as I could in my mouth, slowing moving up and down the shaft of his dick. I savored it.

“This is going to be hard without cruise control,” he offered.

As I mentioned earlier, my mother’s Escort had no features. It was like a Flintstone car, only with a combustible engine. It was a coke can with wheels.

I pulled off his dick. “When you get close, just pull over.”

“Nope. Part of the thrill is to come while driving.”

“Don’t kill me.”

“I won’t.”

I took him back in my mouth. Like him, I had no desire for the blow job to end. I wanted to suck him as long as I could. I loved the feel of him in my mouth, and I loved the control I had over him.

“That feels great. Just keep doing what you’re doing. I will let you know if I want to come.” He started playing with my hair.

I have no idea how long I sucked his dick. It seemed like a long time. My side started to ache. So did my jaw. I pulled off and sat up.

“I need a break.”

“That’s fine.” He looked at me and smiled. It was a perfect smile. His eyes danced above it. I smiled back.

“But don’t take too long. I want to come in your mouth again.”

I did not hesitate. I leaned over and took him back in my mouth. I worked him hard. I felt him strain to meet me. I had a perfect grip on him with my mouth. I sucked as hard as I could.

“Jesus Christ, here it comes,” he gasped as he filled my mouth. I swallowed and kept going. He unloaded again. I swallowed again and kept going. He unloaded again to a ragged “Oh my God.” I swallowed and kept going. I wanted to drain him, and I did.

“You have to stop.”

I pulled off. “I thought maybe you would come again.”

“Not this time. But, that was awesome. You can do that whenever you want.”

“I doubt that. We would die of starvation and sleep deprivation.”

“Maybe. But, what a way to go out.”

Part Six

We talked for the next 7 hours. We laughed, sympathized, and empathized. This was more than two 18 year old boys swapping stories. It was intimate. It was love. When we stopped at a diner to eat, he sat on the same side of the booth as I did. He pressed his leg against mine under the table. I felt euphoric. I felt afraid.

When we drove back into our town, it was late and dark, I knew all there was to know about Zinger, and he knew all there was to know about me. Zinger had driven the entire way, and he was beat. He pulled into his driveway, turned the car off, and threw his head back against the seat.

“When do you leave for school?” he asked.

“August 26. You?”

“Same. So, we have about six weeks.”

“For what?”

“Us.”

Those two letters hung in the air. I wanted to grab them, but they were too surprising and alien. So, I watched them float, wondering if they meant more than I thought or less than I hoped. There was no “us” if all we were doing was “fucking around.”

Zinger got out of the car, so I did, too. We met at the hatchback. He popped it open and grabbed his bag. I slammed it back shut.

“Okay, then,” he said.

“Yes, okay then,” I responded.

He threw his bag over his shoulder and pulled me to him, kissing me hard on the mouth. I kissed him back. His arms were around my shoulders, and my arms were around his waist.

When he pulled away, he said, “Great trip, dork. Call me when you wake up in the morning.”

“Okay,” I responded, simply and unelegantly.

I missed the next morning, sleeping well past noon. When I awoke, I could not piece the trip together. Zinger apparently had known all along that I was watching him and wanting him. When I had the chance, I took drugs with him, betraying what I thought I was, and I slept with him, revealing who I knew I was. I could not figure out what was going on. He said he did not want to be my boyfriend, but it sure felt like that’s what he was, and what he wanted. I felt like a feather in a whirlwind. I also felt wide open and vulnerable. And, I hate that feeling.

My natural instinct toward self-preservation kicked in. I got up. I resisted the urge to call him, as he had directed. Instead, I went to the basement and lifted weights. When I was done, I showered and ate a light “breakfast.” I had no reason to be here or there. I was hanging around. It was pouring down rain, almost sideways, the way it rains in the summer in the midwest. I laid on my bed and watched it pour through my bedroom window, dozing in and out of sleep and mindlessly thumbing through a book.

The doorbell rang. When I answered it, Zinger stood there, soaking wet.

“You didn’t call.”

“I forgot,” I lied.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure,” I said, stepping aside.

We walked to my room. “We need to get you out of those wet clothes.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He smiled at me. It was an “I get whatever I want” smile. He always won, and he knew it.

I tossed him a shirt and shorts. “Give me your wet clothes. I will put them in the dryer.” He stripped. He picked up the shirt and shorts I had tossed him and carelessly threw them in the corner. I picked up his wet clothes and headed to the basement. When I returned to my room, Zinger was on my bed, naked, and hard. His arms were behind his head, and he was smiling broadly. He was beautiful, and I was lost.

“What took you so long?”

“Get dressed.”

“Get undressed.”

I locked my door and leaned against it. I was too weak to say no, but too vulnerable to say yes. I closed my eyes and sighed.

Zinger got up and moved to me. When he took my face in his hands, I opened my eyes. Whispering “hey, dork,” he kissed me. I kissed him back. We kissed for some time. As we did, Zinger removed my clothes.

I needed clarity. “What is this?”

“It’s us.”

Those two letters again.

We moved to the bed. Our hands were all over each other. Our mouths were, too. We kissed and licked and sucked and grabbed and tugged and squeezed. We were soon inverted. We sucked each other eagerly. We were locked together, mimicking each other’s movements. Our torsos rubbed together. Our hands were on each other’s asses, pulling the other deeper. into our mouths. We were together, matching the other’s movements. As we moved closer to the edge, we continued in lockstep. We came at the same time, each gripping the other’s ass hard and sucking as hard as we could. We drank each other, trying desperately to take in as much of the other as possible.

Spent, we pulled apart. We laid head to toe. He reached his arm toward me, and my hand met his. We lay like that, our right hands intertwined. I rolled onto my right side and put my head to his left foot. He mirrored me. We were now perfectly head to toe. We licked each other’s feet. We sucked each other’s toes.

“Come up here,” he asked.

I did as requested. When we were head to head, he pulled my face to his, and we kissed deeply. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me as close as he could. We were pressed together every where we could be. I pulled back, and looked into his crystalline eyes. He looked as deeply into mine. He kissed me again, keeping his eyes open. I kissed him back, keeping my eyes open and staring into his.

“The next time I tell you to call me, call me.”

“Why? If I had, I would have missed that.”

I fell asleep with my head in his chest. We were nude and happy and, his cautionary words notwithstanding, lost in each other. We were boyfriends. I knew it.

Part Seven

We spent the next six weeks like that, together every chance we had. It felt like a tornado, spinning out of control. We fell, hard, with only our impending separation to blight our careless, youthful lives. We were wildly in love, as only teenagers could be. I delighted when he was there, and I ached when he was not. I was incapable of perspective.

As our last weekend together approached, Teddy – what I now called him, as “Zinger” seemed too common – suggested we go away. I agreed. We made reservations at the Chase Park Plaza. We checked in on Friday afternoon. We had tickets to the Cardinals’ game that night. Once we were checked in, we had just enough time to fool around before heading to the game. As had become our general pattern, Teddy topped me. I loved the feel of him inside me, the weight of him on top of me, the ragged breathing when he came, the smile on his face when he recovered. As I often did, I came when he did, without touching myself.

The game was awesome. Teddy conned a vendor into selling us beer. The Redbirds won in dramatic fashion. By the time the game was over, we were drunk and delirious. Instead of going out, we headed back to our hotel. We could feel the clock ticking, and we wanted to be alone together. Unlike that afternoon, our post-game celebration was slow and steady. I edged closer and closer and then had him back off. He edged closer and closer and then backed off. By the time he was ready to come, we were both dripping with sweat. We had almost perfected our sex, so we came together, him inside me, and me all over myself. Exhausted, he collapsed onto me, mixing our sweat with my cum. I wrapped my arms around him. He buried his face in my neck. I gave in.

“I love you, Teddy.” Neither of us had ventured there before.

He pulled his head back and surprised me. “I love you, too, dork. A lot.”

We fell asleep like that. I woke up about an hour later, cold. He eased off me, and I pulled the comforter up over us. I buried my face in his chest, he slid his leg between mine, and we fell back asleep, loving each other.

The next day, we went to the zoo. St. Louis has a world-class zoo, and it’s free. We spent the entire day there, walking animal sanctuary to animal sanctuary. We held hands. We drew stares, but we didn’t care. We were young and in love and declaring it.

It was August and hot and we were exhausted when we finished. We went directly to the shower, washed each other, ordered salads and a bottle of wine (there was no ID check over room service), and spent the evening on the couch together. I laid behind him. We were both shirtless. I loved his chest hair and trail, so I played with both throughout the evening as we watched the Cardinals on TV.

I also loved his dick. So, I started playing with it, too. We were 18, and he was soon hard as a rock. I started to jerk him.

“Fuck me while you do that.”

We were still on our sides. I spit in my hand, smothered my dick, and slipped easily inside him.

“Don’t move. Let’s just stay like this for awhile.”

I did as I was told. We lay still, my dick inside him, and his dick in my hand. He started clenching and unclenching his ass around my dick. This was a new one, but it was working, fast.

“You keep that up, and I am going to come.”

“That’s the goal.”

I lay still as he continued to work my dick with his ass. I started squeezing his dick, not jerking it, hoping to mirror the sensation I was experiencing. My body broke into a cool sweat as my orgasm approached. I licked his neck and then bit his shoulder as I came. His dick pulsed in my hand as he came. When his dick was too sensitive to touch, he raised my hand to his mouth and sucked his cum off my fingers. I pulled out of him and adjusted my body so I could press my mouth to his, tasting his cum as I kissed him deeply. We kissed until we were both hard again. He broke the kiss, stood up, and took my right hand.

“Let’s go to bed.”

We climbed into bed and lay face to face. We kissed softly. We ran our hands over each other.

“Roll over.”

I did. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a tight embrace. His hair was soft against my back.

“I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you more.”

“I wish we could stay like this forever.”

I waited, then I needled him, “I thought you were not going to be my boyfriend.”

He chuckled, “Shut up, dork.” He kissed the back of my neck. I pushed my ass against him, signaling what I wanted. He rolled me onto my back, and I parted my legs for him. We made slow and steady love. He kissed me as he came. I held him inside me. He collapsed onto me, then rolled off on his side. I pulled the covers up around us and put my face to his. We fell asleep kissing, as had become our custom.

Part Eight

We slept late into Sunday, our last day together before I headed to Carleton and he headed to Loyola of New Orleans, over a thousand miles away. I woke first and just watched him sleep.

I was maudlin, knowing that whatever the last seven weeks had been was going to end, sooner than later. We could pretend otherwise, but I was a realist. We were teenagers, would be separated by over a thousand miles, and would have neither the money nor the means to visit each other. I saw in my mind how it would play out. We would write each other letters, we would talk on the phone each Sunday, and we would see each other when we were home for Fall Homecoming. If we fought hard, and I mean hard, then we would maintain that pattern through the rest of the Fall semester, and we would spend the Christmas break together. But, the Spring semester would be long, and we would get distracted by new friends and experiences. Instead of spending Spring break together, we would spend it apart with new friends. The letters would slow to a trickle and then stop. So would the calls. There would be no emotional rupture. We would just drift away from each other, until we were too far apart to find out way back.

When you are 18 and in love, it is easy to pretend it will last forever, and that you cannot live without the other person. I knew it would not last forever. I also knew I would and could live without Teddy. I just did not want to.

That is what I was thinking when Teddy awoke and smiled at me. I forced a smile back.

“Are you crying?”

“Just a little.”

“Why?”

“Because the space shuttle blew up last January, and I miss that teacher,” I replied, obviously sarcastically. “Why do you think I’m crying?”

He pulled me tight. “We’ll be alright.”

“I doubt it.”

“I don’t.”

I did, but there was no point in sharing how I saw it all playing out. There was no reason to make it worse than it was. But, I was pretty convinced of my prescience.

We did not have sex that Sunday morning. Instead, we held each other and kissed and talked and kissed and talked until it was time to check out and accept our separation. We were quiet on the drive back home. I held his hand as he drove. Every once in awhile, he squeezed my hand. I always squeezed back.

The closer we got to my house, the slower he drove. I started to cry, and he did, too. By the time he pulled into my driveway, I was sobbing. He pulled me to him. I buried my head in his neck and chest.

“I love you, dork.”

“I love you, too, Teddy. A lot.”

Neither of us said another word. We just held each other, crying softly and wanting this salient moment to last as long as we could prolong it. Finally, I pulled back, and he put his lips to mine. We kissed long and deep. When we broke, my parents were on the porch, a lifetime of suspicions confirmed.

“You better go inside. We can’t spend the rest of our lives in this car.”

I got out of the car, grabbed my bag, and walk around to his door. He cranked his window down.

“Do me a favor at Carleton, Kevin.”

“Anything,” I offered, almost as a plea.

“Don’t be the biggest dork on campus.”

He grinned at me. I grinned back. He was beautiful in that moment, sad, but smiling, weak, yet strong.

He slipped the car into reverse, and backed out of the driveway. I watched him go, until his car disappeared around the corner. Crying, I was surprised to feel my dad’s hand on my shoulder.

“You’ll be alright.”

I knew he was wrong. But, I did not say so. Instead, I just turned into his embrace, which was warm and genuine and knowing and loving.

I turned out to be spot on in my prescience. Homecoming weekend was awesome. Since my parents knew about us, we spent most of the weekend in my room. We fucked with a hunger and urgency that only separation could create. We cried when we boarded our planes in opposite directions.

Christmas break was also awesome, but the hunger and urgency of Homecoming weekend was gone. We spent the break together, and we fucked a lot. But, the fire was not as hot. We were not going through the motions, but something was definitely different. We were starting to drift, although neither of us acknowledged it.

As I predicted to myself, we did not see each other over Spring break. Teddy went to Lake Havasu with friends from his fraternity. I stayed in Northfield, working to pay my room and board.

About a month before the end of our freshman year, Teddy told me he was going to spend the summer in New Orleans. I was not surprised. Our hometown was too small for him. I knew it could not hold him long. He was too big.

I spent that summer at home. It was the last time I did. After a year away, I realized our small town was too small to hold me, too. I was too smart. And, with Teddy away, there was not enough to bind me to it.

Teddy and I fell out of contact that summer (there was no such thing as Facebook, texts, Twitter, or Snapchat, there were only letters and landline telephones). He transferred to Rice, because it was more of a science school, and he had immersed himself in Chemistry.

He graduated from Rice and stayed in Houston. I graduated from Carleton and went to the University of Chicago for law school.

He did not show for our five year high school reunion. I went only because I thought he might be there. I left as soon as I realized he wouldn’t.

I stayed in Chicago to practice law, raised money for a Senate campaign in 2004, and – in 2012 – was rewarded by the Senator – who was now President – with a federal judgeship. My professional life was awesome, but my personal life was neglected. I barely scratched the surface of those I dated as I lived my life.

As I lived my life, I heard variously from friends about Teddy (I had occasionally trolled for him through Google, LinkedIn, and Facebook, but little turned up). In one report, I heard he married when we were about 30. In another, I heard he had invented something or another, had sold the patent, and had retired with ongoing royalty money that was more than sufficient for him and his family. In the last report, I heard he, his wife, and his four sons (two sets of identical twins born four years apart) now lived on the southern coast of Spain. I also heard he was expected at our 30th reunion, as it coincided with a trip to visit his ailing parents. I had not planned to attend, but I changed my mind as soon as I heard he might.

* * * * *

I was nervous as hell the day of the reunion. We were having a garden party, so it was going to be hot. I could not figure out what to wear to see the lost love of my life for the first time in nearly 30 years. I had loved and lost more than once in those 3 decades, but I never felt the love I had felt for Teddy. First loves are like that, especially teenaged first loves. They expand in our memories. They do not recede.

Frustrated at my indecision, I picked out a pair of cream linen slacks, a white cotton shirt, and a green linen blazer. They were all new. I had spent the prior 90 days trying to rid myself of every vestige of being 48 years old. Once I decided to go to the reunion, I hired a personal trainer that I visited every other day, resumed running on my non-training days, ordered all meals through Evolve, and cut out all alcohol. By the day of the reunion, my stomach was flat, my chest and arms were defined, and my waist was narrow.

I arrived right on time. I said hello to the few people I recognized, and then I scanned the party for Teddy. Not seeing him, I waited in line at the bar for what I assumed would be a perfectly awful plastic glass of cheap red wine. As I waited, I felt a familiar hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, dork.”

I turned around to look into Teddy’s incandescent blue eyes for the first time since Christmas, 1986. He smiled that same smile. Before I got lost in it, I smiled back. He pulled me into a deep embrace that betrayed 30 years of neglect. Neither of us could pull away. I melted into him, utterly and completely relaxed and lost. He dug his hands into my back and let out a long, forlorn sigh. I have no idea how long we stayed like that, but the embrace had to hint to our classmates that they did not know all there was to know about Teddy and me.

When we parted, he complimented me. “You look great, dork. Really really great.” He stepped back and looked me up and down. His eyes were glistening with tears.

I looked at him through my own wet eyes and smiled. “You look bald, Teddy. Really really bald.” I was not surprised. Chest hair on a teenager often leads to early onset baldness.

He laughed and added, “And fat.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Well, I certainly have some extra ‘retired, married’ weight on me that you don’t.”

“Well, I am neither retired nor married. And, to be perfectly honest, I have lived on the edge of starvation for the last 90 days because I thought I might run into you here. And, I wanted to look like you remembered.”

He smiled deeply at me again. It was a knowing, intimate, but regretful smile.

“You look exactly like I remember.”

“You look better.”

“Insincerity does not suit you, dork.”

We smiled and stared at each other too long. He broke the stare.

“Let’s get a drink and go for a walk,” he suggested.

We did. Neither of us spoke. When we were far enough away, he took my hand in his. He squeezed. I squeezed back. Love poured out in those squeezes.

“Are you with anyone?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I was waiting for you.”

He looked at me quizzically. I smiled.

“I’m kidding. I dunno, I just have not found someone special enough to make me forget someone so special.”

“That’s too bad. You would make someone really happy. You made me really, really happy.”

“Not happy enough.”

“That’s not fair. We were teenagers. We were miles away from each other. It was a different time. We never would have lasted.”

“We could have tried.”

“You’re right. We could have.”

“I wanted to.”

He did not respond. He walked a little ahead of me and turned around.

“I wanted to, too. I just didn’t know how. . . . Do you ever wonder what life would have been like if we had?”

He smiled a rueful smile. His eyes were glistening again.

“I do, all the time,” I said.

“Me, too,” he admitted.

We walked on, silently. We had said all there was to say. We had said almost nothing at all.

Part Nine

Although Teddy and I exchanged contact information, I thought it was a mere formality. We had said all there was to say. Our paths, once entwined, had diverged dramatically, his toward what he expected of himself, and mine toward what I wanted for myself.

About a year after our 30th reunion, I heard that Teddy’s wife, Melissa, had died of breast cancer. It was hopeless by the time they caught it. I thought of reaching out to Teddy, but I feared it would appear hollow. Or predatory. I still regret letting my fear get the best of me. Fear is almost always wrong.

About nine months after Melissa’s death, I received a surprising email. “Have you ever been to Spain?”

I was not sure if I should respond. I was not sure how to respond. “No” seemed honest, but curt. “No, but I would like to,” seemed honest but needy. “Why do you ask?” seemed opaque and disingenuous. So, I did not respond. I typed many responses, but I did not send any of them.

A few days later, I received another email, forwarding the prior one. “This email is intended for Kevin Michaels. If this is not the correct email address for Kevin, then please let me know. Thank you.” I had to respond.

“This is the correct email address. I have tried to respond, but I was not sure how to/what to say. I am sorry.”

Quickly, I received a reply. “It’s a simple question. Have you ever been to Spain?”

Later that evening, I replied. “No, I have not ever been to Spain. And, I am sorry about Melissa. I wanted to reach out, but I was not sure how to/what to say. I am sorry.”

I did not realize my email had almost mirrored my earlier one, but Teddy did not miss it. “When did you become so diffident? And, are you just cutting and pasting? Stop apologizing. There is nothing to apologize for. Melissa’s death was sad, but we had a good marriage, the best part of which is our four boys. I miss her every day, but I need to let go of the past and move forward, before I am too old and it’s too late.”

I did not respond.

The next day, I received a follow up. “You should come to Spain.”

“When?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so, dork. Quit being opaque.”

As a federal judge, my schedule booked up months in advance. The following Monday, I asked my Assistant when I could next take a two week break from the bench. She laughed.

“Your next two week block is in 2020, two years from now.”

I emailed Teddy. “My schedule is a wreck. I do not have a two week block for 18 months or so.”

I received a response almost immediately. He had cut and pasted it from an earlier email. “I need to let go of the past and move forward, before I am too old and it is too late.”

Teddy’s email vexed me. I was the past. The distant past, in fact. I decided to call him on it.

“I am the past, so I am not sure what this is all about.”

I received a response almost immediately again. “You have never been the past. Whether you knew it or not, you were always with me.”

I took control of my own calendar. I had a two week civil trial set in six weeks. It was almost certainly going to settle, as 98% of all civil cases do. And, this was a dud civil case, of interest to no one other than maybe the parties involved. It certainly no longer interested me. I exercised my Article III powers, ordered the case to mediation, and vacated the trial date until after any mediation.

With two weeks suddenly free, I booked a flight to Madrid and emailed Teddy. “I cleared two weeks in August. I land in Madrid at 3 p.m. on the 11th. I leave at 1 p.m. on the 25th. I have no plans in between.”

Teddy’s reply did not come for almost a day. “You will miss the boys, as they will be in the states the entire month of August with Melissa’s family.”

Teddy’s email again vexed me. I had expected something a little more effusive. Or excited. I decided to let it sit, unanswered.

I heard nothing for weeks. The silence made me wonder if I had not jumped the gun in making reservations. Then, about a week before I was supposed to board a plane that I thought may actually travel back in time, I received the following:

“Hey, dork. I am excited to see you. We have two weeks to ourselves. I hope we can turn back the clock. If not, then I hope we have a future of friendship and warm memories. Still lots of love, Teddy.”

My vexation was resolved. I was traveling toward a second chance, 32 years after the first chance expectedly failed. I was both giddy and terrified.

Teddy met my flight. He greeted me briefly and warmly.

“Welcome to Spain, dork.”

“Glad to be here.”

“You need anything? We have a long drive ahead of us.”

Teddy’s house was on the outskirts of Malaga, more than 5 hours away by car. We grabbed waters and my bags and drove off. Teddy filled the hours by telling me about his four boys, now motherless at 16 and 12 (he had two sets of identical twins, the first set 2 years after marrying Melissa and the second set 4 years later). And, about the death of Melissa, which had obviously been devastating to their family. Melissa had been the tie that bound, and the Azinger boys had foundered in her absence.

As we drove, I noticed that Teddy was much leaner and much more muscled than he had been at the 30th reunion. Grief had apparently suppressed his appetite, and the gym had been an apparent outlet for the same grief.

“I am very sorry about Melissa.”

“Me, too. But, better to have loved and lost than never to have loved, right? At least that is what a dorky kid told me a long time ago when things were coming undone.”

I looked at Teddy. He was smiling at me. Sooner than I expected to be, I was again lost in him. He had remembered our last phone call, when it had all come undone.

A train, two planes, and an automobile behind me, I was beat when we got to his modest, beautiful house. In fact, I had slept the last hour or so of the drive.

I knew little Spanish, but I knew the sign out front meant the house was for sale.

“You moving?”

“Yes, too many old memories in this house. And, not enough room for new ones.” I did not ask to where, but I should have.

Once we unloaded the car, Teddy showed me to my room, and left me to shower and join him for what I thought was a late dinner but which, for Spain, was not late at all. I never made it to dinner. After my shower, I laid down on the bed to rest my eyes. I woke up 12 hours later, my clothes removed (except my boxers), my bags unpacked, and the covers pulled to my chin. I had slept through our first night together, including apparently through being stripped and tucked in.

When I wandered into the kitchen, Teddy was busy making breakfast. He was wearing only gym shorts. He was still bald. His chest hair was clippered, as were his pits, his arm hair, his leg hair, and his path to paradise. His muscles were long and sinewy, and the manscaping only enhanced the definition. He cut quite an image. When he looked at me with his blue eyes and smiled, the image took my breath away.

“Good morning, dork. I was afraid you would sleep the trip away.”

“Good morning. Thank you for taking care of me last night.”

“I want to take care of you every night.”

I paused. I was not sure where he was coming from, but this seemed like too much too fast for me. So, I balked.

“Teddy, what is this?”

“Look, dork, I let you go once. I do not want to do it again. I have thought of you and us every day since the reunion, always wondering what might have been. I think we have a second chance to find out. We missed the first chance. I do not want to miss this one.”

“Are you sure you’re not just lonely or still dealing with the grief of Melissa?”

“I have been lonely my whole life. Melissa was a great wife, but I have been lonely for you since there was no more you. I wondered for a long time why I did not reconnect with you, and the reunion made me realize why. I would not have been able to bear it, whether it was the thought of what we missed, or the thought of you finding what we lost with someone else. So, I stayed away. After the reunion, I was terribly sad. Palpably so. Melissa knew something was wrong, and she would not let it go. She goaded me into telling her what. So, I told her about you. Everything. We were trying to figure out our future, if we had one, when she got diagnosed. Then, there was nothing to figure out, so we put everything on hold. I have been on hold for two years. I do not want to be on hold any more.”

I sat silent and still and tried to take it all in. Teddy walked over to me, took my hand in his, and said “You can’t be surprised. You dropped everything and flew all the way to Spain to find out, didn’t you?”

With that, he leaned down and kissed me. As we kissed, I hurtled back in time. As our tongues touched, I was 18, it was the summer of 1986 again, we did not have a care in the world, and our future was full of nothing but promise. As I rose to meet the kiss, Teddy clamped his arms around me. I clamped my arms around him. Our bodies were pressed hard against each other. His hands went to my head, pressing me to him and trying to deepen the kiss. My hands went to his back, and I pressed his chest into mine as hard as I could. I do not know how long that kiss lasted, but 32 years disappeared into it.

When we finally broke the kiss, Teddy turned off the burners and abandoned the breakfast. I followed him to his room. We kissed again, just as long and as intently as before. These were forgiving kisses, forgetting kisses, promising kisses.

Teddy tugged my shirt over my head and then pressed his bare chest to mine. My skin tingled with familiarity and newness. I hooked my arms under his and buried my face in his chest. He pulled me as tight as he could. I breathed him in.

I could feel Teddy’s hard dick against my stomach. I easily lowered his gym shorts.

“Take yours off, too.”

I did.

“I have not had sex since I told Melissa about us. And, I have not had sex with another man since you.”

I was unsure of the need to share that information, and I could not say the same. I had had a lot of sex recently, and all my sex since him was with other men.

“Good to know, I guess.”

“I mean, I doubt I will last long.” He was right, as he came almost as soon as I grabbed his dick, before we even got into bed.

“I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. We have a lot of time together.”

I pulled him down on top of me on the bed, and he kissed me again. This was our third kiss of the morning, and I am certain that – with the other two – it was one of the top three kisses of all time. They felt like traveling at the speed of light. They felt like not moving at all.

Teddy finally pulled his lips from mine and started kissing my face. He kissed my neck and my chest. He kissed my arms and my armpits. He kissed my stomach and my abdomen. He kissed my pelvis and where my legs meet my groin. He kissed and licked my balls. He took me in his mouth. I came just as fast as he had, filling his mouth before he could even start working me. He pulled off and spit.

“Sorry about that,” I said, offering the second sex apology of the morning.

“I have not done this for a long time. I did not mean to spit. I was just caught off guard.”

I pulled him back to me, and he flopped down on his left side next to me. I turned to him, and he pressed his lips gently to mine. I put my hand in the middle of his chest and felt his heart beat. He put his hand to my cheek.

“I have missed you so much, dork,” he offered. “I need you to know that I thought about you all the time. You were always with me.”

“I never stopped loving you,” I responded. “You were always with me.”

We kissed again. As we did, I started to cry, and so did he. Teddy licked my tears off my cheeks and then kissed them into my mouth. We stared into each other’s eyes for what seemed like forever. We said everything we had to say without saying anything at all. Our story had re-started. What was lost was found.

The next two weeks sped by. We took languid walks and had furtive sex. We sat quietly and fucked loudly. My last night in Spain, we made excruciating love. We were on the living room floor. I was on my back, my legs and arms wrapped around him. Teddy’s arms were hooked under mine and wrapped around my shoulders. Everything about us was needy. I was at his mercy. The vulnerability was intoxicating and liberating and frightening and consuming.

Teddy slowly delivered himself to me, never letting his lips leave my lips or his chest leave my chest. For the first time during the visit, he was not fucking me. He was making love to me.

I was wide open to him. He could not go too slow or too deep. I rose to meet him, keeping my lips to his lips and my chest to his chest.

“I love you so much, Kevin.”

“I love you, too, Teddy.”

The deliberate pace of our lovemaking did not mask the passion that was driving it. I was disappearing into Teddy, and he was disappearing into me.

Teddy continued his deliberate pace. Every time he got close, he backed off. Each time the delay was more difficult to bear. I was needy for him to fill me.

“I need you to fuck me.”

“I am fucking you.”

“No, I need to you fuck me.”

Teddy smiled at me and picked up his pace. As he did, I continued to meet him, and we both started to sweat. Our kisses turned sloppy and urgent. I sucked Teddy’s tongue as he pounded into me. I could not get him in deep enough, even using my hands and feet as leverage.

“Arch your back.”

When he did, he penetrated me as deeply as he could. I arched my neck and back as I came. Teddy’s orgasm followed a short time later, filling me. Before I knew it, I was coming again, and I spilled another load between us. Teddy kept fucking me. Just when I thought I could not take another stroke, he came again, crying out as he did.

After he had filled me for the second time, Teddy collapsed onto me, mixing our sweat with my cum. I grabbed his face, and he grabbed mine. I looked deeply into his eyes, and I knew him as I had that summer 32 years before.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“I have to. My job is in Chicago waiting for me.”

“Then I am coming with you.”

“Seriously?”

“Why do you think I put the house on the market? And, why do you think I already moved my boys to the states?”

“That seems presumptuous. How did you know this would work?”

“We’re us. We always have been. And, I saw it in your eyes at the reunion. And, I felt it in your touch when I held your hand.”

He was right. Our life affair had re-started at the reunion. I just had not known it.

I flew home the next day full of love and hope. Past is prologue. Our future was ours.

Teddy was to follow six weeks later, picking up his boys on the way. In the meantime, I sold my Gold Coast condominium (it was barely large enough for me, much less me and five more men) and bought a four bedroom bungalow in Evanston. I had been pretty much alone for 32 years. I soon no longer would be. My solitary life was yielding to the past, and my past was my future.

Part Ten

The six weeks after my return from Spain were a whirlwind, and I got vertiginous in it. Normally hyper-rational and deliberate, I had thoughtlessly made monumental life decisions on the fly and based on nothing other than craven emotion. My friends had tried to reign me in, to slow me down, to talk even a scintilla of sense into me, but I was not to be deterred. I was like a bull that had seen red. I charged.

The day before Teddy and his boys were to arrive, the whirlwind stopped spinning, I got my bearings back, and I freaked out. I was gripped by fear bordering on panic. Based on a two week vacation, I had agreed for all intents and purposes to marry an ostensibly straight man and help him raise his four teen-aged boys, who likely were still reeling emotionally from the tragic death of their mother and who almost certainly were going to be rocked, if not wrecked, by the idea of their father loving and fucking another man. Yes, there was some history behind those two weeks, but that history was ancient. Teddy did not really know me anymore, I did not really know him anymore, and I certainly did not know Matthew and Mark (the 16 year old set of twins) or Kurt and Kyle (the 12 year old set). I also knew nothing about parenting, much less about parenting teenaged boys. My own parents had been tragic parenting failures. My only experience as a caregiver had been with a rescue cat, and I had abandoned him to my best friend, Thom. All three of us were happier with Elmer in Thom’s care. I’d have killed him.

I was in Evanston alone, so my support structure was not even proximate. They were all down in the city I had hastily abandoned on a lark.

Frozen to inaction, I called Thom. He answered after the first ring. He knew me better than I knew myself.

“Scared shitless aren’t you?”

“Yes, how did you know?”

“Because, tomorrow, the dream becomes reality, and shit gets real.”

“How could I have been so naive? I don’t know him, he doesn’t know me, and I don’t know his kids at all. I have never even met them, and they are moving in here tomorrow. I don’t even know if they know why they are moving to the Chicago suburbs.”

“Honey, you got caught up in the fairy tale. We all want to live happily ever after. But, you know what my mother used to say, ‘want in one hand and shit in the other and see which fills up first.'”

“Your mother had a wonderful way with words.”

“You know it.”

“Tell me it will be okay.”

“It will be okay.”

“Tell me again, and, this time, mean it.”

“You know I can’t do that. You are too smart for that. It very well may not be okay. But, I can tell you that I hope it is. I hope your dreams come true. I hope it’s the fucking gay Brady Bunch for you and this guy I have never met. But, if it isn’t, I’ll be here to help you piece your shattered life back together.”

“Is it going to be awful?”

“I don’t know if it will be awful. But, it will be hard. Really, really hard. Like harder than anything you have ever done. But, I admire you for trying to do it.”

“Thanks.”

“Just keep a level head and keep getting back up again. You know, it’s not how many times you get knocked down, it’s how many times you get back up.”

“From your mother?”

“Nope. I am not sure where I got that. Probably off one of those horrible inspirational posters with kittens or dogs preaching ‘faith isn’t faith until it’s all you’re holding onto’.”

“Thanks, Thom.”

“You betcha, Kevo. Good luck tomorrow. And, call every time you need to.”

“I will.”

I should have hung up, but I could not. We just listened to each other breathe. We did this a lot. It was comforting. It was like holding each other in the modern, wireless world. I don’t know how long we sat like that, but Thom broke the trance at just the right time, just as I was starting to freak again.

“Listen, dude, you are the smartest and the strongest guy I know. If anyone can do this, you can. Remember to hold on tight, but not so tight you choke off the oxygen.”

“I love you, Thom.”

“I love you, too, brother. Now, go take a Xanax.”

We hung up. I felt reinforced, but still very fragile. As urged, I took a Xanax. And drank a bottle of wine on my screened porch.

When I woke up, it was morning. Teddy and his boys were driving in and due to arrive that evening. I frantically put the finishing touches on the three bedrooms that were not mine, one for Matthew and Mark, one for Kurt and Kyle, and one for Teddy, as I was not sure what he had told his boys or what the arrangements would or should be as they got settled. The house had two masters, and I set each of them up for the twin sets. If they were going to have to share rooms, they at least needed to be spacious with their own bathrooms.

By the time they pulled up outside, I was a bundle of jangled, exposed nerves. I had also dropped another Xanax and was well into a bottle of wine.

As they trudged up the walk, they looked beat or beaten. I could not decoct which.

I opened the door before they rang or knocked. No one spoke, other than Teddy, who unaffectionately said “hello.” We stood awkwardly and silently in the foyer, like boxers trying to get the feel of the fight. Finally, Teddy asked me to show them to their rooms. I did. Matthew and Mark immediately went into theirs and closed the door behind them. Kurt and Kyle did the same. Then, Teddy did as well. I was alone on the landing in a house full of strange men. I felt like an innkeeper. Or a butler. I went downstairs and finished off the bottle of red and made dinner. When no one came downstairs, I went up and knocked on Teddy’s door. When he opened, his expression of defeat floored me. I grabbed him and held him. He sank into me.

“That bad?” I knew from our calls that Teddy planned to spend the drive from D.C. to Chicago talking his boys through the changes that were coming.

“Worse.”

“I made dinner.”

“I doubt there will be any dinner tonight, at least for the boys.”

“How bad was it?”

“It was to be expected, I guess. I got so caught up in you, I forgot about them. I’m their father. I cannot forget about them, and I feel like shit for having done so. And, I was utterly and completely naive to think they would just accept all this upheaval on the heels of their mother’s death. They did not, and they called me out on it. I think I got ahead of myself on this one. I certainly got ahead of them.”

“I know what you mean. I had a massive panic attack yesterday and another one today. We don’t know each other. Not really. And, I don’t know your boys at all. And, they certainly do not know me. Yet, here we all are, 6 strangers thrown together in a strange house.”

“We do know each other. At least how it matters. But, we are going to have to quell that for awhile. I got interrogated on the drive. ‘So, you’re gay now? Were you always gay? Was your marriage to mom just a big lie? Did mom know? Who is this guy? Did he trick you? Is he supposed to take our mom’s place? How could you move on so fast?’ It was awful.”

“We need to give them time. We need to give us time.”

Teddy took my hand. “I’m not worried about us. I’m really not. We’ll bump around a bit, hit a few snags, figure out how to fit together, but we’ll be fine.” He paused. “Actually, we’ll be better than fine. We were meant to be, and we’ll be great. But, I’m not so sure about the boys.”

Teddy followed me downstairs. We ate together and talked. It may have been the Xanax and the wine, but it felt comfortable, familiar, old. Like it was like it was supposed to be. When we finished, we took plates up to the boys and sat them outside their bedroom doors. I went into my bedroom while Teddy knocked and tried to persuade them through their doors to eat.

When Teddy went into his room, I was sitting on his bed.

“How did you get in here?”

“Through the bathroom. It’s a jack and jill. It connects our rooms. The boys have the masters. I claimed these two rooms for the access. I thought it would be easier on them if you did not just move into my room.”

Teddy smiled at me. Unless his boys were dumb, they’d soon figure out why they got the master suites. In the meantime, Teddy used the access to join me that night after he had tried and failed to talk to his boys out of their rooms. We tried to be quiet, but we were not. We tried to resolve all of our doubts with the sureness and certainty of our love-making. We kissed each other and we sucked each other and we fucked each other until we were exhausted. We fell asleep naked and wrapped up in each other, the doors to our rooms locked so we would not be discovered. As I fell asleep, I knew Teddy was right. He and I would be great. It was the boys we had to fret over.

Teddy’s boys were not dumb. I did not expect them to be, but they resolved even the hint of a doubt the following morning (a Sunday) at breakfast. They grilled me and their father. A former lawyer, I held my own. But, only barely. Their father got ransacked. In the end, the boys made clear they were not happy about Teddy and me, they were not happy about what “we” were doing, they were not happy about Teddy “moving on” from their mother, and they were not happy to be in Evanston and had no plans to stay, if they could help it. They had already talked to their grandparents about staying with them in D.C., and they were urging that solution on us. The confrontation had been seething. They were going to be tough nuts to crack, and I had no analogous experience from which to draw.

I noted as they confronted us how disparate the boys were. Matthew was older than Mark by 2 minutes or so, but it could easily have been two years. He bore all the traits of the oldest child. He was the alpha, and he spoke for the group. He was confident and certain and enraged, although he never raised his voice. He hissed beneath his father’s blue eyes (he and Mark looked almost exactly like their father had when I had met him oh so long ago).

Mark was similar to Matthew only in appearance. In personality, he was far more reserved and taciturn. It was clear he deferred to Matthew. He had said very little that morning, expressing himself mostly through his glare and occasional grimaces.

Kurt and Kyle looked and acted almost the same. In appearance, they favored their mother, which was too bad for them. They were okay looking, but their older brothers were striking. In action, they were ebullient. They smiled broadly and easily, almost constantly. They were going to be easier, at least I thought they were. But, they were diffident, and they deferred to Matthew.

Teddy was a good father, I could tell. Although he got ransacked by his boys, he did not get angry or reactive. He listened more than he spoke. He never got defensive. I took my cue from him, although I said very little except in response to direct questions.

After the confrontation, the boys retreated to their rooms, and Teddy and I went out onto the screened porch. Teddy went first.

“We need to formulate a plan and answer their questions.”

“I agree,” I said, as I started taking notes. I am a visual person and a chronic note-taker.

Teddy and I talked all day. By dinner, we had five talking points to share with the boys. Teddy laid them out over dinner, which he had made mandatory.

“I listened to the four of you this morning. I did. I really listened. Now, I want you to listen to me. To really listen. First, I know this is tough on you. I really do. I understand your reaction, and I appreciate it. I need you to understand that I understand.

“Second, you will respect me and you will respect Kevin. I am your parent, and I will be making the parenting decisions. But, Kevin will have input, and you will treat him at all times with respect. You do not have to love him, although I think you will, or even like him, which I am sure you will. But, you do have to respect him.

“Third, it is time for the pouting and the insolence to end. It is not going to have the hoped for effect. We are not going back to Spain. We are not going somewhere else. You are not going to D.C. You are staying here, with me. You can choose to like it, or you can choose to hate it. It’s your choice. I hope you choose to like it, as it will make all of our lives better. But, whether you choose to like it or hate it, it is time for you stop acting like the brats you are not.

“Fourth, you will have input into all aspects of living in this house. But, the final decisions will be mine and Kevin’s. We will talk them through with you before they are made. But, once they are made, they are made, and you need to accept them.

“Finally, I love you unconditionally. I always have and I always will. I would like the same in return, and I have not been getting that recently from any of you.”

Teddy’s eyes glistened as he finished. “After dinner, I want all four of you to go to your rooms, to sit down, and to think long and hard about how lucky you are. You have a great father. You had a great mother, which is a lot more than a lot of kids can say. You have great brothers. You have money, you have stuff, you live needless lives. And, the new life that you are so pissed off about is in a great home in a great suburb of a great city in a great country. Yes, I am asking you to make adjustments. But, that’s life. We always have to adjust. But, through it all, we are and always will be us. The rest is just window dressing.”

All four boys were crying by the time Teddy finished. So was I. We ate in silence. When dinner was over, the boys all did as they had been told. Teddy told me to go to bed, he would clean the kitchen. He wanted to be alone to think.

I was asleep by the time Teddy slid in next to me.

“I think that went well. I think you got through to them.”

“We’ll see.”

“You seem circumspect.”

“They’re teenaged boys. They think they know everything. And, they think I don’t know anything. So, we’ll see.”

I rolled into him. As we had the night before, we kissed and sucked and fucked until we were spent. It was lazy, as there was for the first time in our lives together no clock ticking. After, I lay with my head on his shoulder and my hand in his chest hair.

“What did you tell them when they asked if you were gay?”

“The truth.”

“What’s that?”

“That I fell in love with you when I was in high school, that we drifted apart when we were in college, that I dated a lot of girls through my 20s, that I never thought I was the marrying kind until I met their mother, that I loved her very much through every minute of our marriage and never betrayed her, that her death almost killed me, and that I reconnected with you after she died and found hope where I thought there was none. And, that I did not know what that made me, and I saw no need to try to label it.”

I stewed on his answer for a bit. “What did they say?”

“Matthew scoffed ‘That’s total bullshit. You’re at least bi, if not a total fag.'”

I started to laugh. Teddy laughed, too.

When I stopped laughing, I laid bare the elephant in the room.

“They’re going to be tougher than I thought.”

“Yep.”

Part Eleven

Teddy was right. They were a lot tougher than I thought. At least Matthew and Mark were. Their tears of that Sunday dinner notwithstanding, Matthew treated me with barely respectful contempt thereafter. Mark took his lead from his twin.

They treated their father slightly better. But only slightly. I feared they were headed toward rupture.

Kurt and Kyle were stuck in the middle. They wanted and needed their father, but they also wanted and needed their older brothers, and they did not want to move toward one and alienate the other. They were not adroit enough to straddle the two camps.

We had kept the boys out of school for the Fall semester, thinking it would help them adjust to their new lives not to start at a new school mid-semester. That was probably a mistake, as it meant the five of them were circling each other all day. Their January return to school could not come soon enough.

With their input, we had settled on a private Evanston school for their return. We all thought it would be easier for them to transition into a smaller, private school than into a large, public one. We also thought the small, private school would be more understanding of their alternative, but not unique, living situation. It was going to be expensive (about $15,000 per year per child), but Teddy did not seem concerned about the price.

As the holidays approached, the house was a tinder box. Matthew and so Mark, too, were sullen and surly. Kyle and Kurt were pensive and diffident. Teddy was helpless, having exhausted all options he and our counselor could think of to bring Matthew and Mark around. And, I lurked in the shadows of my own home, especially where the boys were concerned. I felt like I was walking on melting ice. At least I had my chambers and the gym to retreat to.

The only place in the entire house that was loose and free was the bed Teddy and I shared nightly. We were like teenagers again, kissing and sucking and fucking with reckless abandon. Teddy had decided that, since Matthew and Mark (we called them “M&M” or, when we wanted to piss them off, the “candy boys”) seemed entrenched in their disdain, there was no reason to shelter them from what was going on in the house. So, Teddy stopped pretending to have his own room, and moved into mine. And, he stopped trying to shield them from what happened in our room. We kept our door closed, but we no longer came quietly or tried to stifle our pleasure.

Outside of M&M, Teddy and I were slowly, surely fitting together. As unlikely as it seemed after 32 years, we still fit hand in glove. He slipped into my life like one would slip into a comfortable, familiar sweater. My friends liked Teddy very much, at times, it seemed, more than they liked me. And, Teddy seemed settled in his new life, however he labeled or did not label it.

But, something had to give in the house. The atmosphere was just not healthy, especially for Kurt and Kyle. They were being pulled thin, like carnival taffy. We had to act before they broke.

The solution came from Matthew over a mid-December dinner.

“Dad, Mark and I have been talking, and we don’t want to go to the school you picked.”

“We picked,” Teddy corrected, kindly.

“Whatever. You picked. We picked. He picked. We all picked. It doesn’t matter. We don’t want to go there.”

“Well, the public school is certainly good and less expensive, but you are likely to face more problems there.”

“We do not want to go there, either.”

Teddy stopped eating and focused on Matthew.

“We want to go away. To a boarding school. We don’t want to live with you and him.”

“Use Kevin’s name, please.”

“Fine. We don’t want to live with you and Kevin.” He had hit my name hard, obviously to convey contempt for having to use it.

I picked up my plate and left the table. I was not angry at the slight. I was conflicted. I selfishly loved Matthew’s solution, but it seemed permanent, and I did not want to be the reason Teddy and his oldest boys cleaved in two. I finished my dinner on the screened porch. Kurt and Kyle joined me as I did, I later found out at their father’s direction.

To say I got along better with Kurt and Kyle than I did with M&M was an understatement. I got along better with anyone and everyone better than I got along with M&M. With my therapist, I posited that I should not really blame them after all the tumult they had been through, that they may see my presence as an act of betrayal against their martyred mother, that they were teenaged boys wrought with hormones and change and not sure how to deal with that toxic combination, all sorts of solid, rational explanations for the cold war that gripped our house. But, at my core, I thought they were just insufferable little dicks, and I could not believe how far off they were from their father. I had never met Melissa, but if they took after her, I am glad I hadn’t.

“Do you boys want to go away to school, too?” I asked.

Kyle and Kurt looked stunned by my question and then looked at each other.

Kyle started, “No, sir. We want to stay with our dad.”

Looking at me, Kurt added, “And with you.”

I could not help myself. I grabbed them both and pulled them in. The tension in the house was palpable, and those three words had cut through it for me. I started to cry. When I did, they collectively squeezed me. I felt ice melting, walls coming down, barricades being breached.

We were holding each other like that when Teddy finished talking to Matthew and Mark and found me on the porch. Without saying a word, Teddy joined the embrace. I did not realize it then, but the symbolism was ripe. The four of us were pulling together, and M&M wanted no part of it.

As was our custom, Teddy and I did not talk through the decision in front of the boys. Instead, we waited until we were in our room for “quiet time.”

“Quiet time” Teddy’s invention, I think mostly to avoid fracture in the house. At 8:30 p.m. Monday through Thursday, all televisions were off, the downstairs was dark, and all of us were in our respective rooms with doors closed to read, write, work, or, in our case, talk and fuck. The television rule was easy, as none of us had one in our room.

While stripping down, Teddy raised the subject. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know what to think, Teddy. Part of me thinks we should send them off tomorrow, but that’s just me being selfish. Most of me thinks I should find an apartment and not be the reason the Azinger boys break up.”

“Are you ready to give up on us?”

“I’m not suggesting that. We can stay together, just under different roofs so there can be some sense of detente.”

“That is not going to work. They just made it very clear. They – and I say ‘they,’ but this is mostly Matthew – want to go away unless you are out of the picture completely. That’s their ‘deal.'”

Revulsion overwhelmed me. I thought I was going to throw up. Or pass out. They were making Teddy choose between me and them. It had to be an easy choice for him, and it had to be them. He was their father. I was his past.

I looked at Teddy. He immediately read my thoughts.

“Kevin, the decision’s easy. They have a list of schools, and we are going to leave tomorrow to visit them. Kurt and Kyle can stay here, if that’s okay with you.”

“It is. But, are you sure about this?”

“Yes. The situation here is untenable. It has been from the start. If they go away, I am not going to lose my boys. They will just be leaving a little sooner than I expected. But, if they stay, I am definitely going to lose you. And, I am not willing to let that happen.”

“Aren’t they going to feel like this is some huge betrayal, that you picked me over them?”

“I hope not. I just explained that is not what is happening. I told them I thought they had offered a very adult solution to a very adult problem, and I appreciated their willingness to talk it through with me. They seem enthralled with the idea of boarding school. I think they forced the choice on me only to force me to agree to let them go. I think they know I would have said no otherwise.”

I did not sleep that night. I feared I had come between Teddy and his sons, and he would resent me for it, even if he thought he would not. I was the realist who saw things as they were. He was the optimist who saw things as he wanted.

Teddy and Matthew and Mark drove off the next day to visit a half-dozen elite, East coast boarding schools. Kurt, Kyle, and I stayed behind. With no trials scheduled for the following week, I planned to work from home as much as I could, so I could spend time with Kurt and Kyle. And, because I did not trust two 12 year old boys at home alone for a week.

Teddy was buoyant when he reported in on their visits. He said M&M’s attitude and demeanor changed as soon as they pulled out of the garage and started their drive east. Their icy approach toward him thawed. They were excited and excitable again.

I assured him that Kurt, Kyle, and I were having a great time as well. With the pall of the “candy boys” lifted, Kurt and Kyle brightened and filled out. They talked and talked and talked. I heard all about their childhood in Spain, the loss of their mother, their August with their grandparents, and their plan to talk their father into letting them take the whole year away from school. According to them, they needed a “gap” year. Kyle asked if I thought their father would say “yes” if they told him they would leave if he didn’t. I could tell by the glint in his eye he didn’t mean it. But, I decided to play along.

“No, I think he will let you leave, just like he did with the ‘candy boys.'”

“He wanted them to leave. They’ve been such dicks. He’ll want us to stay. We’re not like them.”

“True, but he also knows you want to stay. So, he’ll call your bluff and tell you you can leave, knowing you won’t.”

“You think he’s that smart.”

“You know him better than I do. What do you think?”

“He’s that smart.”

Our week was like that. I settled into this alien role of caregiver. And, Kyle and Kurt accepted me in that role. Teddy was going to be shocked when he returned.

When he did, he and the “candy boys” had settled on a school. It was small and elite and expensive at $20,000 per semester per student. I made $189,000 per year as a federal judge. I had some savings, but $80,000 per year for 2.5 years would deplete it rapidly.

During quiet time, I broached the subject. “Can we afford this school?”

“Sure,” he said, so cavalierly that my interest was piqued.

“Maybe I shouldn’t ask this, but how much money do you have?”

“Enough.”

“Enough for what?”

“Enough for anything.”

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Let me put it this way. I don’t have to work. You don’t have to work. And, the boys will never have to work, if they don’t want to. And the boys’ children will not have to work, if they don’t want to.”

“Holy shit. . . . Just from some formula?”

“I was a very commercial formula. Billions have been made from it and will continue to be. As they are, I get my little share and will continue to. But, more than half the money came from Melissa. She had a large trust fund. I inherited it when she died.”

I relaxed against my pillow. “I better be getting one helluva Christmas present. Speaking of which, what do you want for Christmas?”

“You already gave me my gift.”

“Really . . . . what?”

“Watching you and Kurt and Kyle tonight. It was like watching, I don’t know, a father with his two sons maybe. I am not sure what you did while I was gone, but it was the best gift you could ever give me. The four of us are going to be very happy in this house.”

Teddy kissed me. “I love you, Kevin.”

“I love you, too.”

“What do you want for Christmas?”

“I’m easy,” I said, as I grabbed his dick. “This.”

Our house had turned a corner. The “candy boys” were looking forward to leaving the house, and their impending departure was like the sun peaking out after days and days of cold, grey rain. And, it had freed them from some of their demons. They were not quite friendly, but they were friendlier.

The anticipation liberated us that night. I worked Teddy’s dick with my mouth like I had not in a long time, repeatedly bringing him to the edge of orgasm before backing off. When he finally came, it was an enormous load. I took it all and continued to work my “gift” with my mouth and my tongue until he could not take any more.

I straddled Teddy’s chest and buried my dick in his mouth. This was his favorite position to suck me, as it gave him the best view of the V that formed my pelvis. And, it allowed me the best leverage to fuck his face. I controlled my own orgasm in this position, and I had no interest in delaying it as I had delayed his. I filled his mouth as soon as I could and then collapsed onto him.

If we had been adults, that probably would have been enough. But, we were not. We were teenagers again. It was 1986, and love was in the air. So, I kissed his face, smelled his armpits, sucked his nipples, and licked his navel before lathering his dick with my spit and riding him recklessly, carelessly, freely. He cried out when he came. His cry released me, and I came without touching myself all over his chest and stomach. When neither of us could take any more, I collapsed onto him again, smearing my cum between our sweaty bodies.

We slept like that, slimy and dirty and then dry and sticky. We were awaked by Kurt and Kyle climbing into our bed the next morning, the first time they had done that since they moved in. Through some clever maneuvering of our thick, down comforter, we were able to hide both our nudity and the remnants of our “quiet time” the prior night, but we were going to have to remember to lock our door going forward. Or, at least, to take showers before going to sleep.

They climbed between us. As Kurt rested his head on his dad’s shoulder, Kyle rested his on mine. It felt like a family. As we laid there listening to the house wake up, the sun shone brightly through the shades and into our room. For the first time in a long time.

Part Twelve

As a condition of sending M&M away, their father insisted they attend weekly therapy sessions. They needed it. They had been through a lot. Being teenaged boys is difficult enough without the added tumult of the death of a parent, a repatriation from a leisurely life in Spain, and the introduction of me and a life they never expected from or for their father.

Whether it was the therapy or just being away, M&M seemed to be thriving in New Hampshire, both academically and socially. But, the wall between themselves and their father remained solid. Therapy did not crease it, much less crack it. M&M talked to their brothers regularly, but not often to their father. And never to, or even of, me. The Ks had learned to avoid the topic altogether. While we were “Teddy and the 3 Ks” in Evanston, the third K was nonexistent to them.

They betrayed their attitude toward me and what I represented for Teddy through their attempted involvement of Melissa’s parents in our life in Evanston. Conservative Evangelicals, Melissa’s parents – urged on by Matthew – called Teddy on a February Saturday and spent the better part of an hour-long conversation condemning him and me, berating him for betraying their dead daughter, and threatening him with legal action if he insisted on raising Melissa’s children in a “sinful environment” that was “not Biblical.” Unless Teddy returned to the “straight” and narrow, they wanted the Ks to live with them, and they wanted Melissa’s trust fund restored with them as trustees and Teddy’s boys as sole beneficiaries.

I learned all of this later that day, as Teddy had taken the call in the kitchen but – when it was clear it was headed south – had moved into the office and closed the door behind him to ensure neither I nor the Ks overheard it. When it was over, Teddy was silent. But, it was clear he was troubled; his blue eyes were flat, and he either would not or could not smile. At times like these, I knew not to press or pry. Teddy would come to me when he was ready. Until then, he would brood, lost in his own thoughts and trying to digest or work out whatever the issues was.

When the Ks left for basketball, Teddy brought me into the loop. I was shocked. After all, it was 2018, the gay marriage issue was settled nationally (and had been for 2 years), and atavistic views like those of Melissa’s parents had, for the most part, been shamed into the closet.

After assuring Teddy he need not fret about custody of the Ks or actions on the trust, I asked “What did you say to them?”

“They’re the boys’ only grandparents, what could I say?” Teddy asked, reminding me his parents had died years before.

“You could them to fuck off, to mind their own business, to stop invoking the ghost of their dead daughter in the name of controlling things they have no say in.”

Teddy blanched at my mention of “their dead daughter.” Then, he glared at me, showing he thought I had crossed a line.

“I could have. But, I have things to worry about that you don’t, namely my boys.”

I blanched at the exclusion. He, too, had crossed a line. Afraid we were headed down a dangerous path, I retreated.

“What brought this all up today?”

“I assume it was Matthew. They would never have known otherwise. I certainly didn’t tell them. I haven’t told anyone.”

Teddy inadvertently stoked a burgeoning resentment. While he seemed fine with our life in Evanston, he did not seem fine with it anywhere else. His brother and sister had no idea he even lived with me, even when they pressed him to explain why he had moved from Spain to Evanston instead of someplace where he had family, or at least someplace sunny and warm like the coast of Spain had been. So, Teddy was fully integrated into my life; my friends and family knew him and accepted him. But, I was not remotely integrated into his life; I had not met a single friend of his or either of his siblings. With Teddy reeling from the call with Melissa’s parents, I should have subordinated my pique. I did not. Instead, I turned and left the room. Already dressed for a run, I took off before Teddy could reign me back in, just as I had in Jackson all those years before. I cried as I ran. It was cathartic.

When I got back from my run, Teddy was napping in our bed, a Cardinals throw draped over his naked body. Teddy was on his stomach with his arms crossed above his head, which was turned to the right. As I sat in a chair removing my running shoes, I stared at him. Even after all this time, I found him breathtaking. He did not shave often, so his cheeks were stubbled. He slept with a slight smile on his face. His hairy armpit was visible to me, as was his the right nipple and hairy chest. The muscles on his back rippled, even at rest. The throw covered his ass and the tops of his legs, but his hairy calves and athletic feet were visible.

I loved looking at him. My dick twitched almost every time I did, especially when he was naked. I was not one to believe sex cured all ills. But, it certainly did not hurt them, either. So, I stripped out of my running clothes and moved toward him. I pulled the throw off of him and climbed onto the bed, hovering over him. I kissed the back of his neck as he woke up.

“What are you doing?”

“Fucking you,” I said as I licked down his back. He spread his legs as I moved my tongue down the crack of his ass. I loved eating his ass, and I proved it, burying my face and rimming the hell out of him. His moans and movements validated my efforts.

I moved to his inner thighs, licking them as I moved down his legs to his feet. I licked the arches of his feet, teased the balls of his feet with my teeth, and alternately sucked his toes and licked between them.

I worked my way back up his legs, pulling his dick and balls back between them so my tongue had access to both. I licked the underside of his dick. I licked and sucked his balls. I licked his taint. I rimmed him again.

As he pushed back into me, I penetrated him with my tongue. His groans and movements invited more, so I kneeled behind him, took him by the hips, and slowly entered him. He inhaled deeply as I pushed into him as deeply as I could. He clenched his ass, holding me still and tight. I lowered myself to him, hooked my arms under his, and buried my face in his neck. He hooked his ankles around mine, so we were as entwined as we could be. It was perfectly intimate.

“I love you, Kevin.”

“I love you, too, Teddy.”

“Then fuck me.”

“I’m trying, but your ass won’t let me.”

He chuckled and loosened his grip. I fucked him slowly, pulling out as far as I could without leaving him before pushing back in. My pace was glacial, almost like I was trying not to make a sound. I loved the feeling of his velvety ass around my dick. I do not know how long I fucked him like that, but it seemed like forever. Every time I got close, I backed off.

I needed to kiss him, but doing so was not easy in this position. I did not want to, but I pulled out of him and rolled him onto his back. He raised his legs in the air, and I hooked my arms under them. I re-entered him and then lowered my mouth to his. I kissed him as deeply as I could. He held my head in with his hands as I did. As we kissed, he clenched and unclenched my dick with his ass. Combined with the depth and breadth of our still unbroken kiss, the sensation of his ass working my dick started to overwhelm me.

“I’m getting close.”

He let go of my dick, and I started fucking him with purpose. He let go of my head, but we maintained the kiss. He grabbed my ass and drove me in as deeply as he could. I came as he did. He used his ass muscles to milk me dry. Our lips never touched each other.

When we finally broke, Teddy’s chest hair was slick with our sweat, and I smelled like a goat. I had not showered, had gone for a long run, and then had gone for a marathon fuck. I pulled out of Teddy and whispered “I need a shower” in his ear.

“Me, too.”

In the shower, Teddy kissed me again as the water ran over both of us. It was another deep, long kiss. I ran my hands through his chest hair and around to his ass. I pulled his hard dick into my stomach. I lowered my head to his right nipple, sucked it, and then moved to the left. I kissed his stomach and then took his beautiful dick into my mouth. I started to suck him, wanting desperately to taste his cum. But, Teddy had other ideas. He stopped me and pulled me back up, kissing me again.

When he broke the kiss, Teddy turned me around and positioned my hands against the shower wall. I was standing as if I was about to be searched. I expected Teddy to fuck me. I wanted Teddy to fuck me. I needed needed to fuck me.

He did not. Instead, he filled his hands with shampoo and slowly washed my hair. Then, he used body wash to slowly, gently, softly clean my entire body. It was sensuous and lovely. As he caressed my chest and stomach from behind, he rubbed his chest against my back and his hard dick against my ass. I pushed back again, trying to force him to fuck me. He resisted, slid between my legs from behind, leaned his back against the shower wall, and took my dick into his mouth. He gripped my ass and fucked his face with my dick. He went all the way down, his soft tongue working the sweet spot under my head. I came fast and hard. He used his throat to milk me dry again.

I was spent, having come twice – hard – in short order.