Date: Mon, 26 Jan 2015 16:07:10 -0500
From: Andrew Phillips <andrewphil69@gmail.com>
Subject: He and I (Part 2)

He and I

This is a story from two perspectives, mine and my future lover's.  It is
fictional, aspirational, and hot.  My name is Andrew (andrewphil69@gmail.com).
People call me Drew.  Drop me a line

Part 2 – A touch

Me:

After the swim meet, where Mr. Allcock and I exchanged meaningful eye
contact, my mind was consumed by his image.  So let me describe him in more
detail.  He was about 5'10", fair with black hair, clean-shaven, and
penetrating blue eyes.  Built like the swimmer he was, he had great arms
and abs to die for.   And his pecs were superb, flat and covered with a
field of dark hair from which a thin trail descended through his navel and
down.  Otherwise he did not have much body hair.  I only saw him in a swim
suit (although the team all swam in the nude at practice) so I hadn't seen
his pubes.  I only could imagine, and fantasize what it surrounded.

By then I was about 5'6", but would grow a few inches over the next couple
of years.  My towhead had become dirty blond, though the sun lightened it
in the summers.  My body was virtually hairless with the exception of a
golden cloud around my private parts and under each arm.

Now all my masturbatory fantasies involved Mr. Allcock, what an appropriate
name.  I was sure he didn't know think of me as being anything other than a
fairly good butterflier.   He even appeared to ignore me during our
practices.  It was odd.

After practice we all showered the chlorine off and I even purposely left
my towel around my neck rather than around my waist when he was around.
He'd give me a quick look over, scowl, and turn away.

So, as far as I was concerned the infatuation was strictly one sided.  At
least that was what I thought until April of my senior year, in fact the
day I turned 18.

In the spring semester of my senior year I picked American History as an
elective for two reasons: (1) I loved history and (2) and my imaginary
lover, Mr. Allcock, taught it.  He was much more attentive to me in that
class than at practice.  I had taken a special interest in Thomas
Jefferson, which he said was his favorite president, and did a term paper
on all the contradictions in that founding father.

One late afternoon I was in the school library working on the paper when
Mr. Allcock came in.  He stood behind me, put his hand on my shoulder and
asked, "Do you know what special day this is?"  I was about to tell him it
was my birthday, but in the delay as I thought `How did he know it was my
birthday?' he stated, "Today is Thomas Jefferson's birthday!"  Wow!  What a
coincidence.  With that he gave my shoulder a firm squeeze and left his
hand there a moment or two more than necessary.  And then slid it to gently
touch my neck.  It felt good, really good.

God!  What the hell happened!  How did my scowling Mr. Allcock turn into
such an admiring one?  Almost instantly I was hard as a rock.

He said, "If you need any help on the paper don't hesitate coming to me
after class."  What an opportunity!

Sean:

After that swim meet, the one in which Andrew and I made eye-to-eye (and
his eye to my cock) contact, I was overwhelmed with, what should I call it,
unadulterated, raw LUST!

That night I couldn't get to sleep.  Joyce felt my restlessness and seeing
my semi-erect penis said, "Let's take care of that!" and we proceeded to
have one of the most intense sexual intercourse we every had.  Of course,
it was Andrew I was thinking of as I exploded in her.

As she drifted off to sleep I lay awake thinking again of the meet and
Andrew.  I had been aghast because I was a teacher and getting sexually
involved with any of my students, girl or boy, was unthinkable, unethical,
and criminal.  Not only that but how old *was* Andrew?  Surely not 18, and
any sex with a minor I felt was unfuckingbelievably risky, no matter how
tempting.

So I forced myself to be rigidly dismissive of any show of attraction to
Andrew, surely at practice when I felt especially vulnerable.

But how old was this golden Grecian statue of a boy?  The week after the
meet I went to the office to check the birthdays of all the members of the
swim team and discovered that Andrew turned 18 on April 13th.  Fall
semester frustratingly went by.

Then, how fortunate, Andrew chose my American History class as an elective
in the spring and I was able to get to know him and his mind, clothed.  And
yet, when our eyes met I was really turned on.  Luckily my baggy chinos
never showed it.

I suggested to him that he do a term paper on Thomas Jefferson, which he
enthusiastically embraced.  And then I counted the days till he would turn
18.

On Monday, April 13th I found him alone in the school library after
classes.  I walked up behind him and saw he was reading Fawn Brodie's
"Thomas Jefferson: An Intimate History."  What a prophetic title!

I took the first step in what would change my life.  I touched this
man/boy's shoulder and asked him whose birthday it was today.  I knew it
was his, but also knew that he probably didn't know that I knew that or
that I knew it was someone else's. I told him if was Jefferson's and
squeezed his shoulder. And then I ran the back of my hand over his tanned,
muscular neck.

He didn't flinch; in fact he seemed to lean into my caress. What was he
thinking?  I took the next tentative step and suggested he might need help
and to come by after class some time if he wished.  Andrew was one of my
brightest students and probably didn't need any help on his paper, but
perhaps he needed some other kind of help.  I surely did and I hope he did,
too.

Next time: Part 3 – A kiss