Date: Wed, 12 Apr 2006 11:39:04 -0400
From: cgard 43 <cgard43@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Art of Love 1-2

This is an adult story about self realization and coming out which will
continue through a number of parts.  Comments welcome to
Cgard43@hotmail.com.

THE ART OF LOVE

     They say life is a journey and everyone has to travel his own way. My
life up to age twenty-five had been remarkable to me only because it didn't
seem that anything really major had happened.  Okay, before I start going
on, my name's Darren.
     I figured out I was gay when I was a freshman in college. I'd suspected
it for a couple of years and had a few experiences playing 'grab ass' and
'touch dick' with other boys, but nothing more than that had happened. On
the train back to college at the start of the second semester of my first
year, I met someone who changed my life.
     He was in his mid-twenties, traveling on business, and we struck up a
conversation. One thing led to another and this 19-year-old virgin lost his
right to the title that night in a hotel in my college town. Jeff was a
patient, gentle lover, given to much affection and tenderness and it was a
loving and sweet introduction to the details of kissing and oral sex. The
next morning he taught me how to fuck him. Yes, taught me. He didn't push me
to reciprocate, but teaching me as he did, he made me know that there was a
huge difference between fucking and 'making love.'
     He was in town for another day and a half so we spent another night
together and it was just as satisfying as the first time had been. Then I
learned one of life's nasty lessons: the guy had a partner he was cheating
on, and I was the 'other man.' That pissed me off.
     I swore off gay guys that day. Okay, I swore off them until I met a
contemporary at the library about a month later. His name was Dennis. We
became occasional sex partners, then good friends, and starting the next
year, roommates for the remaining years of college. He was a great guy and I
still treasure our friendship. No deep romance came from it, but feeling
secure in his and other's friendships help compensate. I dated quite a bit
in college, enjoyed a number of other young men, but never found anyone who
made Roman candles go off in my head.
     After college I did a stint in the Army and then started working in the
Personnel field which I loved and really still do enjoy as I've climbed up
the corporate ladder.
     At my second job after the service, I worked in a company that was a
cast iron foundry operation. There are some guys who really like working
with molten iron and in a physical setting that was damn hot regardless of
the season or the weather. They claim, as in some other industries, that it
'gets in your blood.' I'm not sure about that, but it sure gets in your
clothes. I didn't spend a lot of time in the foundry, but did visit there
occasionally for a personal reason.
     That reason involved the Casting Foreman, a really nice guy named Art.
He was just thirty, but he had already worked there almost seven years when
I started.
     Art wasn't a real big guy, standing probably a couple of inches under
six feet or so, but he was very well built. He was ruggedly handsome, with a
bright and wide smile. He had brown hair, just starting to thin on top,
which he blamed on the hard hat he wore constantly. He also had those large
brown puppy dog eyes that always made me smile when they met mine.
     We hit it off immediately, and he was very likable and easy to work
with. We had lunch together a few times and I learned a bit about him from
those conversations. He'd been in the Marines for four years after high
school. Later, he'd been briefly married and then divorced without any kids.
He'd finished a metallurgy degree at night school. He loved his job, and he
lived by himself in an apartment not far from work.
     One Wednesday night, we happened to be leaving work at the same time,
which didn't happen very often because he usually started and quit an hour
before I did.
     "You're late tonight," I called to him and waved.
     "Yeah. Trying to get caught up on the paperwork," he called back. I
walked toward where his car was parked.
     "You want to stop and have a drink?" I asked.
     "That sounds great," he said, "But I'm covered with foundry dust. Come
on over to my place and we'll have a drink there."
     I agreed and he told me to follow him, which I did. He had a nice
apartment, very masculine and quite comfortable. It had two bedrooms and
baths, and he used the second bedroom as a den. He asked me to fix the
drinks, showing me where stuff was, and headed into the bedroom to take a
shower.
     I found the glasses, ice and booze but he'd said he wanted soda in his
drink and I couldn't find it. I walked into the bedroom to ask him just as
he walked naked from the shower.
     I was stunned as I took in the picture. He looked sexy as hell. His
body was trim and yet muscular. His chest was covered with a mat of dark,
curly hair that trailed down to his navel and then further down to his
crotch. His cock looked very big and hung down over a large pair of balls.
     Realizing I was staring, I caught myself and asked about the soda. He
told me where to find it, smiling as I again glanced down at his groin. I
hurried from the room, keenly aware of the growing bulge in my own pants and
embarrassed as having been so indiscrete.
     I found the soda and finished making our drinks, bringing them into the
living room just a second before he came in from the bedroom. He was dressed
in rather loose-fitting casual pants, a tank top which accentuated his hairy
chest, and sandals. He sat down across from me.
     "Hey, this is great," he said, "What good service. It's been a long
time since anyone fixed a drink for me when I got home from work. Make
yourself comfortable."
     I took off my coat and tie, unbuttoned my shirt and kicked off my
loafers.
     "That's better," I said, sitting down again.
     "Nice place you've got here," I said.
     "Yeah, I like it. After my wife and I split up, I moved in here because
it was convenient to work. In time, I've got it pretty much the way I like
it."
     I told him where I lived which wasn't very convenient to work and said
maybe I'd look at his complex when my lease was up.
     "They run it pretty well," he said, "It's especially nice now in summer
when the pool's open, and the landscaping looks so good. It's like a pool
party all the time."
     "What are the people like?" I asked, "Where I live now they're mostly
older folks."
     "We've got everything." he said. "We've got older people, young married
people with screaming kids, there's several gay guys, two lesbians who live
together, and a mixed bag of single and divorced men and women."
     "Wow, that is a cross section," I agreed. I was surprised he'd
mentioned the gay folks, but there's a lot more awareness nowadays. "You
have lots of friends here then."
     "Actually," he said, "I tend to keep pretty much to myself. I think
it's safer."  I thought that an interesting policy, but I didn't comment.
     He went to the kitchen and refreshed our drinks. I noticed as he walked
back that he was showing a bigger basket than usual and decided he probably
wasn't wearing any underwear. His dick was clearly outlined heading down his
left leg.
     We were midway through our second drink and talking about all kinds of
subjects when he asked me if I was gay. I was stunned and hesitated to
answer.
     "Hell, that sure didn't come out right," he said, "I didn't mean to put
you on the spot like that. I thought you might be, but it's really none of
my business. Don't answer that."
     "You did kind of surprise me," I answered, "But what the hell, yes I
am." I don't know why I blurted it out like that, since he'd given me the
way out, but I felt better for getting it out in the open.
     "I'm not out at work, but I prefer to be with friends," I said.
     "I'm not knocking it," he said quickly, "It's just not something I
understand."
     "What do you mean by that?" I asked.
     "Oh, nothing, I don't know," he said and then he stopped talking.
     I was saddened by the way things were turning out. I really liked this
guy, though I wasn't really hitting on him in any way. I just wanted him to
be my friend.
     "Art, we don't have to get into any of this if you don't want to. I'm
sorry I told you, but I wanted to be open and honest with you."
     "I'm glad you were," he answered very quietly, "And sometime I'd like
to talk about it some more. I feel kind of stupid about this whole gay
business."
     We finished our drinks in silence.  Art suggested we go out and get
something to eat.
     "That sounds great," I said, and I suggested a place not far from where
I live. "I'd kind of like to stop by my place to shower and change." He
agreed, so we decided to take both cars. We drove to my place and he had
another drink while I had a quick shower. He was standing in the bedroom
when I came out of the bathroom.
     He whistled provocatively.
     "Thought I'd return the favor," he said and then laughed, "Say, you've
got a great body."
     "Thanks," I said rather nervously, then quickly got into casual
clothes. I glanced at the mail while he finished his drink, then we went to
dinner.
     We were just finishing dinner when I felt Art looking at me very hard.
     "I want us to talk some other time about this 'gay' business," he said
very quietly, "And I'd sure like us to be friends."
     "Sure," I answered, "I'll try to help you understand it from my point
of view if you'd like."
     We parted at the restaurant with an awkward half hug and each headed
home. I felt in a quandary and was totally unsure of where this might lead.

Part 2

     I didn't really think too much about the evening I'd spent with Art. I
didn't see him as date potential as he obviously wasn't gay, though he
certainly was attractive. A couple of days later I went to dinner at a
friend's house and I casually mentioned the encounter.
     Dennis was my friend from college days and his partner's name is
George. George was a few years older than Dennis and me, but he was a total
sweetheart of a guy and I liked him very much. I was also rather envious of
the two of them and the relationship they had.
     "Tell me more about this guy," Dennis said after I'd mentioned my
dinner with Art. "Sounds like he was fishing for information to me."
     "I don't think so," I said, "I just think people are more attuned to
there being gay guys out there and hell, I'm twenty-five and not getting any
younger. He could well have guessed that I'm gay."
     "That could be," George said, "But if I were you, I'd go ahead and try
and answer his questions about being gay. Even if nothing comes of it,
you'll have informed another member of the straight fraternity on what being
gay is all about."
     Dennis and I both agreed with him, but then the subject changed and the
evening progressed enjoyably.
     On the drive home, I couldn't quit thinking about the two of them. They
were so close and clearly so much in love that it made me jealous of their
relationship. If only I could have someone in my life like that, I thought.
Right away, of course, Art came to mind and that made me smile.
     Oh yes, he could be a candidate for the job. I found him tremendously
attractive and sexy, but I wasn't sure I had what it would take to help him
over his ignorance or his guilt trip or whatever it was.
     I didn't see Art for a couple of days but I had to go out to the
casting department one morning and he stopped me and invited me into his
office.
     "Let's get together sometime soon," he said, "I really enjoyed dinner
the other night. I also want to talk to you and I can't get my mind off this
'gay' subject.
     I was glad he'd said 'gay' instead of 'queer' but I sure wasn't getting
any read on him in this whole situation. Nonetheless, we set a date for
dinner that weekend, and he agreed to come to my house.
     Art seemed quite agitated when he got there. I was already having a
drink. I made one for him and we sat opposite each other on my balcony.
     "How's it going?" I asked and he just shook his head.
     "It's not you, man," he whispered, "It's me and it's mostly bullshit."
I couldn't help myself; I laughed. He continued to grin.
     "Here's the deal," he said quietly when we were seated again, "When we
talked about you being gay last week, it planted a seed in my head that I
can't seem to shake. I really was scared that maybe I'm gay and abnormal as
well."
     "Whoa," I said, "Stop right there. I don't think I'm abnormal because
I'm gay." I said quietly. He blinked but he kept quiet.
     "The way I see it, each of us is either gay or straight (I deliberately
left out bi) and that's the way we are. We can't change it and we didn't
choose to be that way. But, if you are gay, then being gay is normal."
     "But why?" he asked.  "How does it happen?" I shrugged.
     "It just is," I said. "I realized it before I turned twenty and that
was that."
     "Tell me about you," Art said, "You seem to be so comfortable with
yourself and all, I mean. How did you get that way?" I couldn't help but
laugh.
     "Pal," I said, "My early life was so boring it was almost not worth
remembering." I told him about my parents and my sister and growing up, all
pretty basic boring stuff. My Dad was a successful businessman and my mom is
a former teacher. We always had plenty to eat and a comfortable home. I told
him about my college life, omitting everything sexual, and my experience in
the Army. I explained my career, such as it briefly had been.
     "What about sex?" he asked, "Tell me about being gay, coming out, you
know," he said very quietly.
     "Okay, but let me explain how I see this whole thing. To me, and for
me, being gay is normal. It's what I am and it's how I am," I said and told
him the bare outline of my early experiences, not going into any detail.
     "But how did you feel about it?" he asked, sounding somewhat anxious,
"I mean, didn't you feel guilty as hell?" That made me laugh.
     "No. Well, maybe a little at first, but after I met my friend and later
roommate Dennis, we had many long discussions and Dennis shared his insights
which just seemed so right on that I got over my concerns. Once I realized
that I was gay, there was nothing to do but accept the fact.
     "My initial thought had been that all this was purely genetic. I mean,
my parents weren't anything like the stereotypes of a domineering mother or
an absent or inattentive father. I felt loved and cared for as a child and
my folks weren't homophobic or anything. My Dad's wonderfully affectionate
to his children. The only thing that made any sense to me was that being gay
was in my genes."
     "In your jeans?" Art joked. We both laughed and I explained what I'd
meant.
     "Dennis' take was along the same lines as mine but with an added
dimension. He believed that God made him gay; that it was predetermined that
he'd be that way and that it was his job to live his life as best he could
within that context."
     Art looked stunned. I was sure that no one had every suggested
something like that to him before.
     "Wow, man," he said. "Those are whole new ideas to me, especially about
the religion part. So many of those religious folks call being gay a major
sin."
     "Yeah, but that's just propaganda. They take one or two little phrases
and base a whole lot of hate on them while ignoring all the things the Bible
says about love. As a Christian, it's more important to me that Jesus never
said anything bad about homosexuality. He told us to love each other."
     "So, does your family know you're gay?" Art asked.
     "Yeah, ever since my junior year in college," I answered, "I'm too
close to my parents to let anything mess up our relationship." I laughed.
     "They're just upset that I haven't found anyone to have a relationship
with. They worry that I'm lonely, which, in a way, I am."
     "That's cool that they are so accepting of it," Art said.
     Gradually the subject changed to other matters and we went out to
dinner and spent a chatty, fun evening together. I figured we'd said all we
needed to say on the subject.