Date: Fri, 29 Dec 2006 15:04:37 -0600
From: Tim Stillman <novemberhourglass@yahoo.com>
Subject: g/m youth/adult friend "Alone in Bed"

(more of my work is at the prolific author's section under the name of
Timothy Stillman in the extremely prolific author's section. I also have my
own web site at novemberhourglass.tripod.com feedback on any of my work,
though please, no flames, is always very much appreciated--thanks--this one
again is for Michael)


			       Alone in Bed
			    by Timothy Stillman


I'm writing this at age 13. It is about when I was ten and was happily
playing with myself. It was New Year's night. Mum and dad had gone to a
party. I was alone with myself, my penis, and my arsehole. And I was doing
what I loved doing best of anything in the whole world. I was lying on my
back, naked, with my legs drawn up and my finger at my hole, my hand holding
my hard hairless little dick. I was blonde and small for my age. But I was
compact. I could take care of myself. Well, I thought so. Back then. Though
not really.

It was cold but snowless this winter breaks in Montreal, which is where I
lived my whole life. If being 13 can be considered my whole life. I lived in
dreams a lot then. I lived for that tingly feeling. Sometimes I would be
brave and sleep naked. Locked my room's door first. Sometimes I imagined the
boy who played Harry Potter was wanking me or I was wanking him. He was so
sexy in those round rimmed glasses, and I loved imagining him naked, with
just those glasses on, and some pooka or however it's spelled beads round
his neck, white beads, and I always wanted to belong to somebody. I always
wanted to be something more than me.

I don't mean be someone, a fireman or policeman or any of that nonsense; I
wanted to be a boy who could meet other boys and be with them, you know. I
have a lover now. His name is Robert and he is 24 and he is kind to me and
helps me out a lot. Though he wants me to tell you right off the bat that he
is not helping me write this, save for whatever mistakes in grammar and such
that he finds.

I met Robert that New Year's night when I was 10. I was rolling round in the
bed, with my nightlight on, and just feeling the heat in my room, and
rubbing my little bare butt on the sheets and feeling really sexxxxyyyyyyy.
Though of course at age 10, I didn't know much about sex, just that it felt
good, and I could come in about two seconds, just lay on my stomach and rub
my peenie against the sheets and get that tumble tremor in my tummy and my
peenie would be so happy it would almost bark like a puppy and I would hold
my face into the pillow so I wouldn't make a sound and I loved everyone in
the whole wide world at moments like this and my penis would be like a cap
pistol pow pow pow and I felt so tasty warm like baked bread, and I would
sigh and rest for about a minute and then do it all over again.

I had to be especially quiet even though mom and dad were away for some
hours into the wee morning, because, I guess I forgot to mention him, I've
got a brother. He was 15 then and a real pain. He wasn't much to look at
really and was kind of a drip to people who some way liked him. His name is
Teddy and he caught me one day feeling myself up in the shower. Just bloody
well opened the shower door, water running and all, and he knew I was in
there. I was just wanking away and I hear him and feel him and I had my eyes
closed. I should have had my ears closed too, because he laughed at me and
called me names most of which I didn't know the meaning. And he's been
riding me about it every day since it happened. Made me so ashamed.

So Teddy and Robert were out right now, gone sledding or something, but I
made sure I had my door locked anyway. I guess when you're me at ten, you
get really scared a lot; the planet is far too big; the people around you
are far too tall; they weigh more than you do and they don't half think you
exist one bit, so I had come to trust no one but Erwin. Oh, who's Erwin?
Well, it's the name of my peenie. I had heard at school boys named their--
as they so importantly said it when no teachers were around, and sometimes
when there were-- DICKS, which made me laugh inside, and wonder later why
they used these terrible words about such a nice boy thingee. Then I started
hearing other words about girls' parts and boys' other parts and that, and
it seemed kind of mean. Seemed like my brother laughing at me in the shower,
at Erwin's size and all and my having it sticking, or him rather, sticking,
straight out.

I had run starkers to my room with that mean 15 year old who somehow lived
in the house with me and who was always giving me grief laughing at me all
the way, and even when I got to my room and closed the door and locked it. I
remember balling myself up on the bed and holding to my peenie, telling it
it would be all right and we had done nothing wrong, telling him, Erwin,
please don't you ditch me too, okay? I was the runt of the school. I was a
joke. I looked pretty like a girl. Gold hair. Slim body. Kind of girly
looking face. But there was a strength there with it that--as Robert is
telling me now--"wars with the beauty" and makes me look strong and "real
boy" every single day.

I never had a thought about another person, I mean sex wise. I never had any
thoughts back then other than don't hurt me, and I can't wait to play with
my stiffie. My balls were nice too. Bedtime was how I got through the day. I
could jack and those other words all the time if I wanted to. And I wanted
to. I would just rub my hands over my body and I would pinch my pink nips
and I would look at myself in the mirror and kneel there in front of it and
watch my Erwin sticking straight out, touching the mirror when I moved my
abdomen forward and the mirror even in the heat of summer was cold to the
tip of my penis.

I was circumcised. I didn't know then what that meant. Robert is
uncircumcised and his penis is though not large is larger than mine of
course and I love he has this little overcoat on it and I love to pull it
down, like opening a window shade on happiness--Robert just looked over my
shoulder, and read that window shade on happiness thing, and flicked his
finger playfully at the back of my head, and we laughed a bit--crikey! He
said. Robert is from Australia. Then he said, you'll get us laughed out of
Nifty. Then we laughed again. My god, he said, as he put his head on my left
shoulder, how could anyone with two eyes or one even not love you and want
you forever?--and he hugged me and it was pretty wonderful. I wondered what
Teddy was getting from Wilma these days. Not much I imagine. I mean--her name
is Wilma!!--serves him right. Rolling pin Wilma, Robert calls her.

I had masturbated, god, are there any romantic terms for these acts?,  acts
is what you do to get through life like school and teachers and grades and
jobs and stuff, fake stuff you have to do; and why is it known as self
abuse, lord, it's one of the few self pleasures I had back then. I guess I
can tell you this, because Robert is between my legs now. Uncomfortable as
that may be, underneath the table the computer is sitting on. I'm naked and
finally have a little golden patch of pubic hair, don't want lots of it,
this will do just fine, and he's tickling it with his tongue. We've been
together since mum found out what I was and summarily--got that right,
Robert?, oh Robert, come on, god, he tickles that peenie opening with his
tongue so well--`scuse me for a minute or two--okay, now I'm back, depleted
but will fill up momentarily, well she found out that Robert and I were well
lovers. And of course she and Dad hit the ceiling.

And here is where Teddy of all people came through for me, really big came
through, so I should not speak so ill of him, he found out the commotion
going on in the living room when they were threatening Robert with jail,
except  if he could come up with well a little money to help the bills and
he must never see me again that was sure, so as Robert told me later, after
his begging and crying to my oh so moral parents, Teddy walked straight up
stairs and opened a locked drawer in his desk, pulled it open, and found a
key, then went to his closet, to a tiny lock box, opened it up, found the
pictures of mum and dad and various other naked people together in a group
of three or four, and more, and they were doing all kinds of really skuzzy
things, therefore facing them, after I went to bed crying, fearing for
Robert's very life, and Teddy there showing the pictures to them and their
faces, Robert said later, so blanched and pinched, and they screamed a lot
more, tore up some of the photos before Teddy and Robert could stop them,
but Teddy had dupes, and it was a tension charged week let me tell you..they
kicked me the hell out^Åand it was the greatest thing that could have
happened^Å

That night when I was ten and the New Year was welcoming itself in, that I
had jacked or wanked or masturbated or whatever the hell off four times in a
row, I had fallen asleep, and when I sleep, I really sleep. So I didn't hear
him get in bed with me. He didn't touch me. He said he was too scared to
breathe. I woke with a start and he was naked in my bed and he said he would
leave if I wanted but he had just broken up with Ted (Ted? My bro was gay?
Mr. Soccerball star, Mr. Girlmagnet old Teddero gay?) well Robert told me
later on in our new apartment that if Ted had not come through for us that
horrible weekend when we were FOUND OUT, on his own, that he would show some
of his own private picks of Ted and himself to Mum and dad, but I didn't
know any of that then. I remember holding him like he is holding me now, I
remember telling him it was okay, and patting him on his shoulder. He said
he really had been--well--attracted to me and he knew it was wrong, but he
played up to Ted to be around me if he could be---

I'm not going to lie and say he didn't scare me. This was a man even then.
This was someone bigger and more powerful and resourceful than me. This was
one of those tall trees I had to walk through all those years, even kids who
were shorter than me seemed tall trees to me. He asked me if I minded. Well,
I did. I had no idea what was going on. And he said he felt a perfect ass
being naked in bed with me, and I said, just came to me, is my ass really
that perfect? And we were dead silent and then he laughed and I laughed and
he said he had been like this for as long as he could remember, and he just
had to be in bed naked with me one time, he had never been with a boy
before, knowing that he would be scalded severely, but it was like a
physical pain in his chest and groin not to know even for a second what it
might be like and he started to get out of my bed, started turning from me
saying he was sorry and he would go away, and I surprised myself by saying,
wait a mo' I kind of could use a cuddle. And it was true because Mum and dad
were a superior lot and really didn't like runt me long before they kicked
me out, so he just lay there, did Robert, and he cuddled me, and I kissed
him and after a long time he kissed me back and I held his bigger penis and
felt it hard and it felt damned good.

We lay there a while, and then both got up and dressed, he held my hard on
tightly for a moment as we had just our briefs on, and it was really
sexxxxyyyyyy, I had begun to start understanding what that word really
meant, not the skuzzy stuff boys went on about in gym or at the lunch table
and all the meanness and stuff, but nice and deep intimate and Robert was
kind and I knew he would take care of me. I guess all my life I've wanted to
have someone be nice to me for just me and me alone. I understand that Wilma
has somehow or other found out that Ted is gay, so he's out on his own
again, and I feel kind of sad, seeing he changed my life for the best and
all, but he really did it for himself, to get back and embarrass parents he
hated too, with less reason it would seem than I had, but who knows.

So, Robert wants me to finish up. He will correct the story but says there
will be mistakes because he's not very good with writing. Well, maybe so,
maybe not. But he's good at lots of other things that really are too peacock
rainbow tail beautiful for words--Robert just read that sentence--gor, he
said, you dip into purple prose far too much--people will be laughing their
asses of at you--and then I said, hey, Robert, speaking of asses--and he said
you are a perfect ass, the most perfect in the whole wide world. He stroked
his hard on sticking out of his jeans, and I know it is time for bed--ah a
lad's work is never done.

Gotta go.

Bye.