Date: Thu, 16 Jul 2009 16:26:34 -0700 (PDT)
From: azkid61@yahoo.com
Subject: My Marty - Chapter 1

This is all fiction!!! This is a figment of your imagination . . . and
mine! And no one was hurt or maimed in the writing of this story. [Well,
maybe the editor a bit!]

DISCLAIMER: This is a fictional gay story depicting a homosexual
relationship between a young man and a boy. It is intended for adult
readers only. All characters are fictional and in no way related to any
person or persons living or deceased. Any such perceived similarity is
purely coincidental.

IF YOU ARE NOT OF LEGAL AGE TO BE READING THIS STORY OR YOU DO NOT APPROVE
OF SUCH MATERIAL, PLEASE LEAVE.

This work is copyrighted (c) by the author and it may not be reproduced or
copied in any form without the specific written consent of the author. It
is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the provisions of their submission
guidelines but it may not be copied or archived on any other site without
the written consent of the author.

                  *     *     *

This is the first time for me at writing a story of any kind.

I have to thank Nifty for letting me find such an amazing site. That has
made me feel like I'm not alone in this world of dreams, while not accepted
by closed-minded people.

Love does not come in a prepackaged form, defined by a few over religious
groups, or others, too blind to see the true meaning of the word "LOVE."

The one that has been the most helpful in my writing trials, and has been a
great inspiration to me in all my endeavors has been Matthew Templar, my
editor. Thank you, Matthew. You are the most unselfish and caring man I've
met. You put all others before yourself with all the things you do. Read
"Never Take Love for Granted" and you will see what kind of man he really
is.


				 Chapter 1

				"My Marty"


You asked me about my love of long ago. His name was Marty. He was 11 years
old when I first met him in the summer of 1981. I worked with his Dad (Ed)
at the local paper in Mesa. We worked in the warehouse, keeping the giant
newspaper press loaded with paper.

I didn't know much about Ed, just that he was married and had two boys. Ed
was a big drinker. He would come to work smelling of booze in the morning
and be in a nasty mood. We got along okay. He was a lot older then me by 20
years. I don't do drunks. I came from living in a single parent home and my
mother was a raging alcoholic.

But Ed seemed harmless. One night, he talked me into going out with him. So
I left my truck at work and he drove us to the local bar. We had way to
much to drink and it was very late. I was less drunk then he was so I drove
him home. It was too late for me to go home to my one room apartment, so he
told me to stay. I could sleep in the boys' room.

There were two beds in the room; one was empty and the other had two small
forms in it. Being a little drunk I didn't notice how old the boys where; I
just needed to lie down before I fell down.

I was only in bed for a short time when I felt the bed move. A small arm
came over my right arm. I was lying on my side, facing the wall. I was a
little surprised to say the least. But I figured it was his bed and how was
I to say anything about it. And I loved the contact of his skin on mine.

I was only 19 and gay, in the closet big time; being from a very small
town, in the big bad Wild West. I laid there for some time, loving the feel
of him on my back; the warmth of him was sending chills all over me. Then I
noticed a small poke just above my butt and I realized it was he's stiffy
poking me. Well now, let me tell you I was in heaven just thinking what
this boy looked like in my mind's eye.

It was still quite dark and I didn't want to move a muscle and have him
move away from me. Then I noticed I had a raging hardon myself. But, being
in my co-worker's house, in bed with a small boy, with a stiffy in my back,
and being somewhat tipsy, I wasn't sure what to do. I started to think
about getting up and out of that room. But the feelings I was having
overruled my panic. So I just laid there and just loved the warmth of his
touch, and finally went to sleep.

I started to come out of a dream I was having, about being with a boy,
laying in my arms and never feeling so much warmth and love before. Then,
as I opened my bloodshot eyes, and got them to focus, I realized I was
lying on my back and my right arm was out, and had a small head laying on
it. I turned my head to the right to see the most beautiful set of deep
gray eyes looking right at mine; seeing right into my soul. I just stared
with my mouth wide open. He was asking me how I was, but I wasn't
listening. I was locked on those eyes of his; those shimmering pools of the
deepest gray I'd ever seen. And then he reached up with his right hand to
my chin and pushed my mouth shut, knocking me back to reality.

And just asked me my name again.

I choked out, "Wade."

"Wade is your name?" he asked as he giggled. "That's a weird name."

His voice was that of an angel to my ears, and his smile was brighter then
any light I'd ever seen. His face was the most precious thing of all;
bright, and full of sunshine. It glowed with a light that said he could do
no wrong. He then asked me why I was in his bed. I told him I had to drive
his dad home; that he'd had too much to drink and couldn't drive.

Then, just as fast as his smile sprang up, it faded away and he looked
down. My heart just started to feel broken and hurt for him. I was swept
back to my youth and the times I'd be in my room, trying to hide under my
sheets, listening to my mom shouting at my dad, in a drunken stupor,
screaming words that I'd only heard the older kids say on the playground;
not knowing what they meant, but knowing if they came from me, it would
mean a bar of soap was soon to be introduced to my taste buds.

At that moment, I knew I had to take that feeling away from this angel, so
I pulled my arm that had his head on it, into my chest and just hugged and
stroked his back. He did not pull away, but only pulled me in closer to
him. I told him in my softest voice that I knew how he felt. That seemed to
make him feel better somehow.

We talked for a bit. I got to know him more. He told me his name was
Marty. The lump under the sheets on the other bed was his younger brother
Chris, by three years. He was a pain in his butt, but he liked to play with
him. Marty told me he hadn't had too many friends. His family had just
moved into the apartment complex a couple of months ago, and that they
moved a lot. So he knew he'd be moving soon, so there was no sense in
making friends if they would only be leaving them behind.

I just laid there and stroked his back. My heart was his at that point,
unconditionally! He seemed to be feeling more at ease with me, and it just
felt so good. I soon had to leave, and he needed to get ready to go to
school.

We got dressed and went out into the living room. Nobody was up yet, just
Marty and me; so I made him a bowl of Trix and had one myself. He never
left my side the whole time I was there.

When it was time to leave for the bus, I walked him to the bus stop and he
looked up at me with those beautiful eyes of gray and smiled at me and said
thanks.

I asked, "For what?"

He said, "For being there." He said, "Mom works nights and Dad, well, he
never gets home till late and by then his is too drunk to want to do much
but eat and pass out."

At that moment I wanted to just scoop him up in my arms and run away with
him. Noting that that couldn't happen, I just put my hand on his shoulder
and rubbed it and told him I would not leave him tell the bus came. He
asked me if I was going to come back and see him. I told him that wild
horses couldn't keep me from him. He smiled so big it filled my heart with
more than enough love to at least last me until we met again.

As the bus pulled up, he reached up to my shoulder and pulled me down to
speak in my ear.

"I like you. You make me laugh."

And he ran onto the bus. I waved to him as the bus pulled away.


The end of Chapter 1

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