Date: Thu, 14 Jun 2012 16:48:08 -0700 (PDT)
From: don mumford <thinat20@yahoo.com>
Subject: Main Copy  OLIVER'S ADVENTURES   Chapter 2 (Real Time Class Trip( By Donny Mumford

			    OLIVER'S ADVENTURES

			 (Chapter 2 - Class Trip)

			     by Donny Mumford


It's painful recalling my history with Tyler and the tragic accident, and
the difficult time I had dealing with it, but now I'm looking forward to a
life after high school. The past is in my past. First thing on my agenda is
my class trip with the senior class to Philadelphia, then final exams and
graduation. I'll need to give the valedictorian speech, so I'm not looking
forward to that. Then high school is over for me, and good riddance too. My
brother Christian's moved out of our house and I hate to see him go, but he
wanted his own place now that he's working. I can understand that, but
it'll be lonely around here without him. He's got this cool apartment in
town, near his office.  He gave me a hundred dollar bill in a goofy card
and on the card he wrote, 'Hi Oliver, here's a little extra spending money
for you on your senior class trip. This is NOT your graduation present;
you're lucky enough to have a handsome and rich big brother (haha) who is
 careless with his money and who's buying you something wicked expensive
for graduation! Oliver, this is a day for decisions!!!!  Or is it? Love,
Christian.'  I laugh at that because his last comment is teasing me about
my indecisive nature. The last time he mentioned my indecisiveness, I said,
"You say I'm indecisive, but I don't know about that, maybe I am and maybe
I'm not." Actually I'm making a conscious effort to go with the flow and
not be so indecisive, but it's a struggle at times to do that. As far as
the money thing goes, Christian was only half kidding about being rich. At
age twenty-four he's already making really good money. His job's in the
computer programming business, so he's a little fat with cash, but not
rich. He described his job to me a while ago, and frankly it sounds boring,
but he gets paid a lot and he claims to love the work. So as far as I'm
concerned, if he's happy then I'm happy for him. The senior class trip is a
three
 days and two nights affair, and as I mentioned the trip's only interest
for me is that I'll get to visit the University of Pennsylvania. My plan is
to walk around the campus and maybe meet some students. That's where I'll
be going to college in the fall and I can't wait to start that new part of
my life as a college student. It even sounds cool, college student. Since
the high school part of my life didn't go well at all, and the middle
school part was pretty much ruined when my best friend, who I loved with a
passion, died in a horrible accident, I need a new start with this
university opportunity, and I intend to make the best of it.  I keep Tyler
in a very special place in my heart, but I've been struggling to move on to
the rest of my life for years now, and it's finally near.

In school I get
 my information package for the trip in a big manila envelope stuffed with
brochures, directions, schedules, meal vouchers, rules, lots of rules, and
the pre-registered key for the hotel room. Too bad I couldn't find anything
in that envelope about me checking out every nook and cranny of the
University of Pennsylvania.  Of course, first I need to find out what a
'cranny' is before I can check it out.  The hotel room key looks more like
a credit card than a key. Also listed on the front of my envelope, along
with my room number, is my room mate's name, Mr. Degenerate.  He's been out
of college just a year now working as an assistant guidance counselor at
the high school. I need to share a room with one of the chaperons, and
isn't that special. Being the only kid in my class who isn't rooming with
another kid, and maybe somehow that can work to my advantage although I
can't imagine how. The night before our trip
 I let
 my imagination get the best of me by focusing on the fact that Mr
Degenerate squeezed the back of my neck when he told me he'd be my
roommate.  Not just the neck squeeze, but also his comment about sleeping
in our own beds, 'If we want our own bed'. He'd given me some kind of
meaningful look too, his eyes opened wide and eyebrows up in kind of a
smirk. I couldn't make head nor tail of it unless he thinks I'm gay. Hard
to imagine a guidance counselor would be so stupid as to try something with
one of his students.  I am gay, but how would he know, nobody else does.
Mr. Degenerate is young looking and I guess he's nice looking too, if I
want to be fair about it. To be honest, I'm absolutely desperate for some
kind of gay sexual outlet, but I'm not desperate enough to get in bed with
Mr. Degenerate. Nope, not that, I need to find out about my sexuality with
a boy my own age, although maybe I should keep an open mind about
 that.

Getting to sleep isn't happening because I'm playing with myself right now,
as I so often do. I usually need at least one good wank every night before
passing into the sleeping part of the evening.  Over the years, to assist
with my wanking, I've concocted many fantasies involving cute boys from
school. As far as I can tell, none of them are gay, but that doesn't stop
me from fantasizing about them.  In my elaborate fantasies I've fucked and
been fucked by at least fifteen different class mates. It makes me wonder
if sex is too much on my mind, but what's normal anyway? If the chance
presents itself in the future, my promise to myself right now is that I'm
taking advantage of it because I've been deprived for too long now. I'm
gonna go wild, dude. In addition to boys in my classes at school, I have
also been fucked, in my mind, by
 supermarket
 bag boys with buzz cut hair, and
 newspaper boys with curly dark hair, and kewl dudes walking in the mall,
and a boy I passed in the street with a Mohawk haircut.  Variety is the
spice of life!  Oh yeah, in my imagination, I'm a real hot slut and maybe
I'll be one in real life sometime for real. For now, I'm rocking solo with
my cock or in my mind with my fantasy boys.  At times my cock has been so
sore I've had to completely shut down my imagination. Unfortunately, on
this particular night no amount of forced fantasy can get me hot for
Mr. Degenerate.  I'm hoping maybe a young, real cute bell hop at the hotel
will get me sexually excited.  Why are they called 'bell hops'?  So much to
learn, but I'm getting wacky now because I need sleep; but first, how many
real gay experiences have I had in my nineteen+plus years?  Hmmm? Well lets
see, if I include older man, boys my age, plus all the younger boys, the
total would be, all together, exactly
 none. Not even one
 little mutual jerk-off. Well, an old guy did touch my dick once when I was
taking a wiz and I immediately ran away from him. That experience was the
first and last in my portfolio of homosexual adventures. Yeah, but have I
ever been yearning for something gay to happen to me... and I mean for as
long as I can remember!  It hurts like a bruise; I mean the longing and
constant yearning, it's mentally painful.  I'm hoping to find a real gay
boy at college. He's going to be one lucky fellow, let me tell ya!  And
except for a few minor hindrances; such as I'm wicked shy and lack self
confidence, and can't make a decision, and oh yeah I stutter; except for
those few drawbacks, I'm going to be taking that gay college scene by
storm. Well, maybe 'storm' isn't exactly the right word. What would be the
right word for someone tip-toeing around in the closet like a little mouse?
That's would be the word for me.

Forget these realities! They're not turning my dick on at all so I need to
think about something more sexually stimulating, like that boy I bumped
into at the pizza shoppe earlier today.  Now that's reality with some fire
power because this kid was cute. He may have been sixteen, no older than
that. He had real cool black spiked hair to go with his bad boy cute
looks. I walked right into the front of him and our faces rubbed together;
it really was accidental. Jesus, his skin was firm and smooth and he
smelled boyishly good so I let the tip of my tongue slide across his cheek
and I almost peed my pants I was so nervous when I did it. The boy was
sweet though and took all the blame for us running into each other. He
didn't even mention that I licked his face. Of course I went right home and
jerked off. Okay! That real life memory finally did it for
 this night
 'cause I'm wicked turned-on from thinking about the pizza shoppe
 boy and I get into a great jerk-off. Pizza boy is so yummy!  After a great
hand job, cuming in my sweat sock, I'm able to fall off to sleep with a
smile on my face. The next morning is senior class trip day.  My mom and
dad are in the habit of treating me like I'm a ten year old and today
they're treating me like I'm heading off to my very first boy scout camp,
or something like that. It doesn't surprise me at all because they love me
and mean well, and I've had my problems dealing with life growing up, so
the concept of me actually growing-up hadn't reached their brains yet.  Oh
hell, they're sincerely concerned for me so I'll endure the hugs, kisses,
and the corny advise they offer. My luggage for the trip is a soft sided
satchel and a small back pack, so I'm able to walk to school. Mom or dad
dropping me off is not an option although we argued about it. On the way to
school I dump the lunch bag with my name on it that mom
 insisted I bring along. The buses for the trip are stopping at a Burger
King
 for lunch; I'd read that in our instruction packet, but this information
carried no weight with mom.  Mom goes, "I packed you a nice tuna sandwich
lunch with a slice of cake and an apple, Oliver."  Right!  Just what I
need. I'll fit right in eating my bag lunch while everyone else is chowing
down on cheeseburgers and fries.  Still, it made me feel guilty to just
toss mom's lunch in the trash, but what else could I do with it?  Damn!  So
many things give me a guilty conscience.

I'm wearing my iPOD headphones to discourage anyone talking to me during
the four hour bus ride and I'm praying Mr Degenerate is not riding on my
bus planning on sitting next to me.  Please dear God, give me one break. My
plan is, once we got to Philadelphia, to ditch Mr Degenerate and everyone
else; basically I'm on a University
 fact finding trip all by myself. The rest of them might be on a senior
class trip sightseeing all the historical sights and whatever else is
planned, but I going to be thoroughly checking out the University and,
perhaps more importantly, I'll come across some kind of gay activities, or
gay hang-outs, or something along those lines assuming they exist. When the
buses pull out there's no Mr Degenerate or anybody else sitting with me. I
have a seat to myself so I'm considering giving God another chance as long
as he continues this trend of making my prayers come true.  A four hour bus
ride lay ahead of me and some might groan about that, but I'm looking
forward to it. For one thing, the unique bus motion always causes me to
spring a boner and boners are fun. I also like to look at the world as it
goes by my window.  Every person I see passing by has an entire unique life
story all their own, one that's intertwined with
 other people, and their entire life stories.  Makes me realize how little
any of us know about what is going on every second of every minute in every
nook and cranny on earth. There's that fucking 'cranny' thing again.  I
need to check that out. As expected, after almost three hours we stopped at
a Burger King.  Unfortunately we're the third bus to do so and many kids
are in line ahead of us.  Each bus was suppose to go to a different Burger
King, or similar fast food joint, not to the same one. But when one bus
pulled in to the first Burger King, the others followed. Duh!  Of course
there is no extra service staff inside to handle this totally unexpected
volume of business.  I look out the bus window at the hundred or more kids
in line already, and can't help but think about the tuna salad sandwich and
the other things in the lunch bag, the one I threw away this morning.  I
refuse to get
 pissed-off though, I'm enjoying the ride so far and I'm not real hungry
anyway.

Staying on the bus I switch my iPod selection to Plain White T's and
listened to my favorite song by them, "Hey There Delilah", an oldie but
goodie. And their next song that has lyrics I think are funny, 'Hate is too
strong a word, but I really, really, really don't like you!' I listen to
the entire CD and by then the food line is almost to the front door of
Burger King, so I get off the bus and sauntered over to stand at the back
of the line.  A few minutes later two chaperons from another bus come up to
stand behind me. They're talking about Mr Degenerate and from what I can
make out, he would have been on my bus, but he got in a car accident on his
way to school this morning.  He isn't going to make any part of the Senior
Trip. My eyes get big: does
 this
 mean I'm totally on my
 own?  My own room and my own agenda? The possibilities!  That's all I'm
thinking about the remainder of the bus ride.  All kinds of possibilities
that maybe have opened up for me now that Mr Degenerate is a 'no show'.  We
arrive at the Philadelphia Holiday Inn an hour behind schedule because of
the Burger King screw-up and now everyone's congregated in a too-small
conference room for the introductory meeting. Attendance is taken by a
parent, chaperon, or teacher; each in charge of different groups of
students.  I'm part of Mr Degenerate's group so I join that group that's
now been reassigned to a parent chaperon.  Three-hundred and eighty kids
have their names called in one group or another and each kid yells out that
they're present.  It's noisy and confusing with twelve people calling out
different names at the same time. They'll be a roll call each morning and
each night, but my name is
 never called, and never will be called.  Not in Mr Degenerate's reassigned
group, or in any other group.  This incredible good luck pleases the hell
out of me.  It didn't totally surprise me that my name doesn't appear on
anyone's list because I figured, since I was to be in the same room with Mr
Degenerate, he'd know if I was present or not so why would he need to put
my name on a check list?

Okay, it looks like God is trying very hard to get back on my good side;
first the pleasant bus ride without an annoying talker beside me and now
this! This extraordinary piece of fantastic good luck. Mr Degenerate
suffered a broken ankle I hear, and thankfully it's not too serious. The
bottom line is I'm on my own and in my own room.  Pinching myself to be
sure it isn't a dream, then I go up the elevator to check out my room. The
 credit-card-key works just like they said it would so that's a good
start. The only disappointment so far is that the bell hops I've seen
aren't cute or young, so screw 'em!  I carry my bags to the room.  The
room's small, but nicely located at the end of a long hall, on the third
floor next to a stairwell, so I don't really even need the
elevator. There's a double bed and a pull-out sofa which I won't be needing
now. I'm planning on sneaking in and out using the stairs while doing my
best to avoid all contact with the high school senior class trip. Totally
on my own now, like I usually am. It's the middle of the afternoon on a
chilly gray day as I walk out the side door of the hotel and head to my
right. Ten blocks, walking slow, I'm looking at the tall buildings and the
crowds of people all hurrying to get some place.  It feels weird being here
alone in the big city.  It's all totally new to me being from a small
 suburban neighborhood.
 I'm wearing the same back pack I wore on my bicycle rides, and one of the
thins in my backpack is a map of Philly I'd gotten from my trip packet,
plus instructions on how to use the public transportation system. Also in
the backpack is my iPOD, a sweatshirt that says on the front of it 'Sarcasm
is one of my specialties', and two bottles of water from my hotel
room. There's money in my wallet, including the hundred dollar bill that
Christian sent me, and I can't think of anything else I'll need for
exploration of the university campus.

The University of Pennsylvania is far enough away that I'll need to take
the elevated train, which might be fun. Initially it's a challenge figuring
out which is the right train to take, but I'm smart so my brain, plus a
little old lady, got me on the correct train. The little old lady told me
which train to take actually,
 my smarts came in when I took her advice.  She'd noticed me scratching my
head
 looking at the map of the elevated train system, which is wicked
confusing. The university is a ten minute walk after the train ride and
before I realized it I find myself on the University of Pennsylvania
campus.  Lots of huge, old, brick buildings and many statues in landscaped
areas covered with pigeon shit. The buildings are often covered with ivy
that grows up the walls and, of course, there are a lot of college age kids
with back packs and armloads of books hustling and bustling around.  It's
hard to tell if some of the
 buildings are part of the campus or if they're offices and apartment
buildings.  This inter city campus is spread out over a number of city
blocks. The center of the campus with the sports stadium, field house, and
crisscrossing brick sidewalks, one of which leads me to dormitories and all
types of class rooms.  All the students I've noticed leave no doubt it's a
University, but when I walk a few blocks away from the center of things I'm
not at all sure I'm still on the University grounds. Well, this is exactly
why I'm here: to explore, familiarize, and conquer the University of
Pennsylvania.  And to try hooking up with a cute gay freshman who will fuck
me, that too. Then the cute freshman will show me everything I need to know
about the university and then fuck me again.  Right! I'm soooo sure.

I explore the area by walking a
 number of blocks away, trying to determine where the campus actually
ends. It isn't too long before I feel certain I;m no longer on the campus
because the buildings start looking run down and seedy.  With each ensuing
block the buildings look in worse and worse shape, and while I've never
thought of myself as having a prejudice against people of color, I need to
admit my experience with them is very limited. There were two black kids
and a few Hispanic and Oriental kids in my high school class, but I had
zero interaction with them.  Here in Philadelphia there are a lot of people
of color. Just a few blocks off campus it seems everyone I passed on the
street is African American. Being inexperienced I can't help but wonder,
'Should I even be here?'. Turning up a street, then another one, I'm sure
these buildings aren't part of the campus.  A big problem develops too
because I not sure if I've just come down this street or up that
 street; never mind which is the way back to the University.  Now I'm
seeing entire blocks of unoccupied buildings and some of them look like
they'd been bombed, while others obviously have burned to the ground. I've
been aware of a black kid, who appears to be about seventeen years old,
casually following me for at least the last three blocks. When I stop to
check my map, looking around to see if I can locate a street sign on the
map, he calls out, "Yo, motherfucker. What you doing here?" I look behind
me hoping upon hope that he's calling out to
 someone else, but I don't see anyone else and it hits me right then that I
hadn't seen anyone for awhile now. I'm a little nervous and a little
uncomfortable. The silence around me echoes in my ears; there aren't even
cars on the street.  Because of my nervousness I look at the kid and do
that dumb thing of pointing at myself, as if I'm asking, 'Do you mean me?'
He goes, "Who da fuck ya think I'm talking to? You see any other
motherfuckers around?"

Hoping my stuttering won't be too noticeable I said, "Pa, per, perr,
perhaps ya yo you'd be nice enough to tell me which way back to the
University campus."  He slowly approaches me; he isn't any bigger than me,
but there's a definite attitude about him. He's very aggressive and
confident swaggering up close to me, almost chest to
 chest.  He's wearing droopy jeans and
 a thigh-length, too-big Philadelphia 76ers warm-up jacket over some sort
of football jersey.  On his feet are large, elaborate, and expensive
looking Nike leather sneakers, and on his shaved head is what I think is
called a 'do rag'.  A fat, fake gold chain hangs down from his neck, and
close up he looks maybe a year or two older than my original guess.  All in
all, he's apparently just your standard gangsta rap fan in odd clothes; odd
to me that is.  I didn't mention this to him though. He asks, "Ya got any
bling ya stuttering motherfucker?  Give me ten dollars and I might tell ya
where your ass is at."  I look at him a couple of seconds with my mouth
hanging open, then figure I better give him the ten bucks, but when I look
in my wallet the smallest bill I have is a twenty.  I ask, "Da, do, ya,
you, you have change for
 a twenty?"  He tries not to, but he laughs out loud anyway. and his smile
is awesomely cute.  "Shiiiit!  Where you bounce in from?  Gad damn, you
stupid!  What the fuck yer name? "  I tell him and he goes, "Listen,
Ol-lee-ver, what the fuck ya need to know where the U of P be?  You be too
stupid to go to no college!"  He'd drawn-out each syllable of my name, to
mock me I guess.  I stutter that I was already accepted to go there in the
fall, and he goes, "Shiiiiit!  That's mighty hard to fucking believe
Ol-leee-ver!  Aaight, give me the fucking twenty. Ya all ain't got no
fucking Benjamins do ya?"  I had the one Benjamin that Christian gave me,
but I shook my head muttering, "No, I don't got no fucking Benjamins".

He stuffs the twenty in his back pocket, staring at me hard. Then he tells
 me to follow him and he takes off. I need to hustle keeping up because he
walks fast.  He leads me back through some alley ways and across empty lots
with broken beer bottles and debris of all kinds. It seems like we're going
further and further away from the University, but maybe my sense of
direction is off. I know enough to know I'm totally lost.  None of the
streets have street signs so my map is useless.  I stutter asking him his
name and it sounds like he said, "Ryjohn" but that didn't sound like any
name I've ever heard of.  I stuttered out "Par, pa, par, pardon, but wha
what was that name?"  He said "Ryjohn, ya deaf motherfucker!"  After that
I'm feeling nervous again because he won't talk to me except to say, "Shut
the fuck up, Ol...leee....ver, and just follow me." Just when I'm feeling I
might pee my pants, expecting to be mugged
 or stabbed or worse, we walk around a corner and here we are. I can see
the main campus three blocks over to my left.  He calls me motherfucker
about four more time, but he also tells me which streets to stay off of.
Ryjohn grabs the city map from my hand and points to dangerous areas.
"Stay the fuck out of there you dumb shit cause maybe you ain't gonna be so
lucky next time. You be in the projects when you in here. You see where my
black motherfucking finger is pointing?" I look intently, as he explains,
"Sum gangsta homies catch your dumb ass in here and you ain't gonna like
what happens."  He has a scar that starts at his right eyebrow and goes
sideways, disappearing under his do-rag.  Scar or no scar he's a very good
looking boy. I have the urge to touch his face because, except for the thin
scar, his skin is flawless, the color of milk chocolate.  I resist the urge
to touch him and then, taking me by surprise,
 Ryjohn cups the back of
 my neck with his hand and shakes my head back and forth a couple of times,
he's very strong. He pulls my face close to his and I feel his warm, fresh
smelling breath on my face with each word, as he says, " A skinny, pretty
boy like you in the project is gonna last maybe less than a motherfucking
ten minutes. You lucky enough to get me on your motherfucking case so you
okay this time, but next time your ass gets lost, and you get some bad ass
motherfucker, you just might get shot, or something.  So, Ol-leee-ver, stay
out of the projects ya dumb fucker you!"

I'm trying hard to follow what he's saying as he pulls my head closer to
his until our foreheads touch.  His skin is cool, firm, and silky
smooth. He holds our heads together for ten seconds or more as I gasped out
short
 little breaths.  I have the strongest urge to kiss him on his lips as I
stand there perfectly still, face against face.  Ryjohn rubs his forehead
back and forth against mine twice, and with that he lets go of me, turns
abruptly and walks away a few steps before turning back around and, smiling
at me with perfect, beautiful, white teeth, he says, "Ciao, motherfucker!"
and he swaggered away. I'm breathless as I call out, "Bye Ryjohn, the
thanks," but I'm not sure he heard me. That was maybe the best twenty
dollars l've ever spent. Even so, I'm still a bit weak in the knees from my
encounter with Ryjon, and my dick feels funny too. I get back to the actual
campus grounds and collapse on the first bench I come to realizing how fast
my heart is beating.  Ryjohn had my heart beating fast and my dick getting
hard. He's
 one damn hot motherfucker alright! Jeez, I'd never met anyone remotely
like him before. I look back to where we'd come out of the projects, but
he's nowhere to be seen. Damn, I wish I could have thought faster on my
feet and made some kind of connection with him.  Sitting on the bench until
my boner finally goes down, I think about Ryjohn.

It's late in the afternoon, but I still want to see more so I walk through
the campus in the opposite direction from what Ryjohn had called the
"projects'.  I walk way over on the other side of the campus and there I
find a nice section of the city.  It's a very busy upscale area with
restaurants, clothing stores, food markets, and what looks like four or
five bars and taverns.  The street is closed off to traffic for three very
long blocks so it's effectively a huge
 outdoor
 Mall.  Lots of people strolling around and many of them are young.  The
energy is exciting with street entertainers adding to the
atmosphere. There's a guy on stilts advertising for one of the bars and two
jugglers who juggled odd items like balloons filled with water and bowling
balls.  Maybe it's just me, but I've always felt that jugglers, next to
mimes, are the most boring acts imaginable.  On the plus side, there are a
number of street musicians.  One instrumental group and a couple of
individual singers. Drawn to one guy, because his voice reminds me of
someone, I wander to the group of people listening to him sing.  I can only
see his back as I make my way through the crowds towards him The closer I
get the more familiar he sounds. Then I know who he sounds like. It's maybe
a little weird or
 macabre, but this guy's
 singing voice sounds very much like Tyler's singing voice. The way Tyler
sounded when he sang after our voices changed at age thirteen or so.  Call
it projection or whatever you want, but it's uncanny how much this street
artist sounds like my deceased best friend.  I don't recognize the song
he's singing, but I recognized the sound. I made my way around to the front
of the singer as he's finishing the mystery song, and the little crowd
gives him a nice round of applause. Some of the audience drifts away
allowing me to step into a spot where I can see the singer clearly. He
doesn't look anything like Tyler.  This guy has that beautiful light tan
skin that some Hispanics have. Hell, with the very dark brown hair and
eyes, he probably is Hispanic.  Hispanic or not, when he asks if anyone had
a song request I hear no
 accent
 whatsoever.  Someone, an older lady, asks for something by the Beatles and
the singer started right in with another song I'd never heard before, but
it did sound like Tyler was singing the damn thing, and it's giving me a
real creepy feeling in the pit of my stomach as my eyes teared-up. Damnit!
Am I ever going to get over Tyler death?

The singer's wearing an old Army field jacket and jeans that are ripped in
both knees.  Real old boots on his feet ad to the feeling that this guy is
homeless except he's too young to be homeless. I wipe my eyes and stare at
the singer's mouth as he sings easily and naturally. His full lips are
shaped perfectly, a delicious rosy pink color and behind those lips I can
see very white shiny teeth. There's a tiny space between his front teeth
that somehow looks cute on him, or maybe it's
 his chin that's cute.  When he opens his mouth for certain notes I can see
his tongue which is the same rosy pink color as his lips. I can't take my
eyes off his mouth and while I'm not a huge Beatles fan, the song is okay
and his voice is pure.  He effortlessly plays an electric guitar sounding
amazingly good considering he has only one small speaker amplifying the
sound. I'm mesmerized by his performance, or maybe I'm mesmerized by
him. He has a short, wispy, sparse beard that's not dark brown, but a light
brown color and very soft looking.  He's young, like I said, maybe
nineteen, his dark brown hair is pulled back into a short pony tail.
There's a
 calmness about this kid
 that's hard to describe, but it somehow adds to the mesmerizing feeling I
have.  Big brown eyes, his whole face unbelievably attractive, but
difficult to characterize. I wouldn't say he's just cute necessarily, or
just handsome either, he's probably too young to be described as handsome,
but to say he's good looking is an understatement.  I don't know exactly,
but I love his looks.  He's an inch or two taller than me and just about as
skinny. When he's finished the Beatles' song he asks for another request
and like a dork I raise my hand.  Everyone else just calls out their
requests, but he ignore them and points at me and, with a cute grin on his
face quietly says, "No one has ever done that before; raised their hand I
mean. I really like that for some reason, whaddya wanna hear?"  It got real
 quiet in our group with everyone gawking at me now, and because I'd raised
my hand and everyone is staring, I can feel my face get bright red and hot.
I go, "Da, da, da, do, do. ya .....tha the" as my face gets hotter and
redder. It's too much, I just shake my head "no" and look at the ground.
The singer has a long cord leading from his guitar to the amp which allows
him to walk over in front of me, and in a warm, sincere voice, he says,
"No, please.  It's alright, we'll wait for you. Please tell me what you'd
like to hear?" I want to be invisible is what I want, but I need to try
again so I go, "De, de, da, de ....the Pla, pla " He waits calmly looking
at me with a pleasant expectant expression on his cute face. No smirk or
smile, like it's funny that I stutter. It's been years since I'd
 stuttered this badly, but I'm captivated by his eyes as he stars into
mine, and his voice too of course.  Even with my heart pounding and my face
about to burst into flames, I knew I must again, but I'm very much aware of
the growing sound of nervous, uneasy mumbling from the others standing
around us. I say, "Pla, plain White T's.....Hey The, tha, There De, de, de,
Delilah".  I felt the tears of embarrassment filling my eyes and then the
horror of one lone tear rolling down my cheek.  He ignores the tear and
nods his head saying, "I love 'Hey There Delilah' it's become one of my
favorite songs to sing."  Then, while still staring me in the eyes,
standing right in front of me using Tyler's voice, he sings that song as
well as anyone could.

He sings the entire song
 directly to me.  It's been years since I last stuttered to the extent I
stuttered trying to get out my song request, but by the time he was done
singing the song I'd forgotten all about the stuttering.  Clapping much too
hard and too long when the song is over, he gives me the warmest smile.
After hesitating a few beats, looking at me, he slowly roams over to the
other side of the crowd to hear another request and this time I recognize
the song. I stay and listened to the singer for almost a half hour, but he
never comes back to my side of the crowd again.  Finally he announces he's
taking a break and he picks up his baseball cap from in front of him, with
dollar bills sticking out from people tossing money
 in
 the hat.  I want to put money in too, but I still only had twenty dollar
bills and that one Benjamin Christian gave me. Too much to leave in a hat
for a song. The cute singer walks off and I wait over hour, but he never
returns and I need to start finding my way back to the hotel
anyway. Darkness has set in by now so everything looks different.  Walking
back through the campus I make sure not to go too far off course and
wind-up in the 'projects' again.  It takes some doing, and over an hour of
trying, but I get back to the Holiday Inn safely. I asked quite a few
people for help along the way and was surprised at the number of people who
didn't even know what street they were on.  In retrospect I don't know why
I was surprised 'cause I didn't know what street
 I was on either.  The map helped once I finally figured out some of the
streets. As soon as I saw the elevated train station I knew where I was and
that's a good feeling; it's always nice finding your way out of being
lost. I used to do it all the time on my long bike rides.

At the Holiday Inn there's a buffet dinner for our high school group, and I
pay for my meal with one of my food vouchers. After eating standing up, I
go to my room and call my parents to tell them I was having a great
time. Then, laying on the bed, I think about my adventures today. I'd
discovered two exciting boys who were totally different, but who both
seemed so worldly as compared to me, and so hot too. Thinking about Ryjohn
and how sexy and attractive he is, and then thinking about the mesmerizing
street singer, both giving me the urge to jerk, off so
 I do; not once, but
 twice.  I doze off between wanks and neither of my wankings last very
long.  Just thinking
 about
 those two has me
 pumping my boner in a blur and squealing out with the eruption. Following
my second orgasm I take a long shower and get into bed with the TV on, and
promptly fell asleep. After a surprisingly good nights sleep; surprising
considering I'm in a strange place alone, I'm feeling almost like a
seasoned traveler. Of course I did have all three locks on the door fully
engaged.  Down the steps for breakfast, using another voucher and the food
is good too!  Spending a little time in the bathroom cleaning up and doing
the toilet thing, then I'm down the stairs and out the side door again.  As
I pass the small conference room I hear the attendance being taken again
and I smile because, like always, I'm on my own and taking attendance with
just me isn't necessary 'cause I know I'm here, and no one else cares
anyway.  This time I don't need a little old lady to get me on the correct
train. Back on the
 University of Pennsylvania's campus before ten, bright eyed with a big
smile on my face knowing I have the whole day to explore. But the hell with
the campus right now, I walk directly to that outside mall looking for the
street singer again. The mall isn't nearly as crowded this morning as it
had been yesterday and I quickly determine my street singer isn't here. The
guys who are here don't interest me so I slowly walk back to the campus to
start getting familiar with it. I still have the bright eyes, but I'd put
the smile away for the time being.

My plan is to try talking to some of the students, although my really bad
stuttering yesterday worries me. Am I regressing with that because I'm
alone in a strange place four hours from home? I was very nervous both with
Ryjohn and
 especially with the street singer.
 Christ, if I stuttered like that nobody will want to talk to me for long,
but here goes. The first person I asked id I could have a word with is a
young looking student who's succinct with his response; he said "No."  Not
the response I was hoping for, but the good news is I'd hardly stuttered at
all when I asked. Okay, I hardly stutter asking two girls walking together
if they had a minute, but they didn't even acknowledge me, they just kept
walking.  I saw a student reading a book while sitting on a bench so I sat
on the same bench and looked over at him to say something, but he says
something first. "I'm reading a fucking book, can't you see that?"  Hmmm, I
get up wondering, 'Is it possible every single person that goes to the
University of Pennsylvania is a stuck-up asshole?'  What a bunch of balloon
head, ego maniacs!  I smell coffee then and wander into a building with a
cafeteria on the ground floor.
 It's crowded, but I get a
 coffee and am lucky enough to grab a table that two girls are just
leaving.  Great table that looks out on the busy campus grounds.  Looking
around the cafeteria I see that everyone is talking and laughing just like
normal kids. They don't appear stuck-up from a distance.  Three guys walk
right over to my table, and say, "Sorry to intrude dude, but there aren't
any empty tables so lets share.  Would that be okay with you?" They're all
sitting down as they ask so I just smile at their apparently rhetorical
question.  For all I know this is a common practice, sitting with strangers
when no other space is available.  Plus, now I'd have my opening to get
friendly, ask some questions, and maybe learn something.  I say, "How ya
all doing?  My name's Oliver." A boy with a
 very
 thick drawl, like maybe he's from Mississippi asks, "Didn't somebody write
a book about you, Oliver?"  I said, " I think maybe you're confusing me
with my cousins the Twists". He goes, "Yeah, that must be it.  I get
everything back-asswards. What class you in?" As in graduating class, I
assume. He looks younger than a college student, but some guys just look
young.  I tell him I'm a senior knowing he'll be shocked. He goes, "Jesus
Christ, how young were you when you started college?" I go, "Oh, I mean a
senior in high school; I'm here on a senior class trip." Then I explained I
was taking this opportunity to check out the University.  He asks if I'm a
scholarship student and I tell him I am and which scholarship I'd
received. He says, "You must be a frigin' genius then." He has the darkest
red hair I've ever seen and
 his face is covered with big freckles.  He tells me his name is Andy and
he's in his freshman
 year. The other two both
 have the same first name, Barry.  They explained that the scholarship I'd
received was only given to students with perfect grades and close to
perfect SAT scores.  He added, hesitantly, that there has to be special
circumstances or hardship involved too.  I hadn't know that, but I couldn't
help but wonder if Tyler's death and my reaction to his death was the
special circumstance for me.  My parents would know what they put down for
my special hardship, but I might not ask them what it is because maybe I
don't want to know. I just nod my head at the special circumstance remark
and move on, asking, "How is freshman year working out for you guys?"  Andy
says, "Its been funking blippin!" and when I asked what that means he says
it means, "Awesome, cool! Like that."  The thin Barry tells me that
 Andy is from the boonies of Alabama, "Way out past
 East Cupcake. So to Andy, everything seems like it's blippin!"  I didn't
ask where East Cupcake was.  As they drink their coffees and eat their
sweet rolls and donuts they tell me some funny stories, and then some tales
of woe about how hard it is in the beginning getting use to the difficulty
of the work, and especially the volume of work they need to do on their own
after classes.  The heavy set Barry started ragging on Andy. He tells me
with a serious, dead-pan expression, "In Andy's neighborhood they know
you're trailer trash when you let your twelve-year-old daughter smoke at
the dinner table in front of all her kids."  I hesitated for just a second,
but couldn't hold it in and burst out laughing. The other guys chuckle and
Andy goes, "Fuck you, Barry.  Why don't you concentrate on finishing
 the half dozen donuts you
 got in front of you, ya fat fuck."  Then the other Barry added a few
insults and they were having a good old time.

I'm wondering, since they were college students,if maybe they could help me
out with something.  All three look at me when I ask, "What's a cranny?"
The fat Barry said, "Oh, she's married to your grandfather usually."  I go,
"Not granny, cranny.... as in nook and cranny?"  At the same time both
Barrys state "Fuck if I know".  Andy says, "I'm from Alabama, I don't know
shit."  I told them that it was great dealing with real live college
students. They get serious again, or slightly serious, as they all agreed
that a Professor Wainrite was a complete 'assoholic' and that I should stay
clear of his
 class. They called him a 'ambigusexual' too and I
 questioned what that slang word means.  It means, in their special speak,
that they don't know if he is gay or not, but he might be. It seems that
between Ryjohn and these university kids I'm going to need to learn an
entire new vocabularies.The 'ambigusexual' remark at least provided an
opening for some talk about gays at the university. As far as these guys
know there are about the same percentage of gays at the University as the
population at large, anyway that's the consensus of Andy and the two
Barrys.  And yes, there are gay clubs and gay organizations and nobody
really cares all that much if you're gay or not. The fat Barry says, "Why
all the interest in gays, Oliver?  Are you gay?"  And for the first time in
my life I say, "Yes, I'm gay, but so far I haven't been able to do anything
to prove it."  They all
 laugh and go "That's
 cool!" Andy is majoring in Biology and he has this to say, "Guess what I
learned yesterday? There are over three thousand spiders living at the same
time, for every human being on earth."  The two Barrys and me look at each
other, and I say, "No shit, does anybody want my three thousand?  I
certainly don't."  This got a good laugh and I felt almost like part of the
group. They went on to tell me about a girl, apparently they call girls
'anchovies'.  The fat Barry says, "If you walk around the campus enough,
Oliver, you're bound to see this anchovy.  She always wears mini skirts; in
the fall or winter or spring, it don't matter, and she's infamous on campus
for always sitting with her legs spread wide open.  It's as if she's saying
"Take a whiff."  I go, "Gross!" and as we all laugh again I glance out the
 window
 and there he is, the street singer from yesterday.

He looks different because he's now wearing preppy clothes, and he has a
back pack on, and it's far from the homeless look of yesterday.  He has his
arm around a pretty girl's shoulder and the two of them are laughing. I
stare at them and, absurdly feel upset, disappointed he's with a girl.  I
think, 'What the hell is that 'anchovy' doing with my street singer?'
Apparently he hadn't sung that song to me with any special meaning, like I
thought he might have, or at least hoped he had. Damn!! After thanking the
three guys for all the laughs and information, I tell them I'd look them up
next fall, and hurry outside. As usual, I have no
 plan. Outside, the street singer is walking away with the girl, but at the
last second he turns his head and sees me standing there looking at him.
He does a double take and holds the second look until the girl pulls on his
sleeve and he goes back to talking with her. I watch them walk around a
corner and disappear. That look he'd given me, did it mean anything? I
continue acquainting myself with the University campus, walking up every
side street and brick walkway I come upon. Three girls stopped and talked
with me for twenty minutes.They're very friendly and I think they were
flirting with me or teasing me or something. They concentrated mostly on
describing the party scene on campus and gave me the name of two hot bar
spots for college kids. One of the girls adds, "Although I really need to
 tell you that you'll never get served in either bar, Oliver.  Sorry, baby,
but you look way too young to pass for twenty one."  The girl who said that
to me is named Dee; she plays with my hair as she talks to me.  They ask me
questions about my scholarship and my high school experience. I tell the
truth about the scholarship, but lie about the high school experience
telling them it was 'blippin'. They just nod as if they know what I mean.
Later I had a late lunch with two black students from England. They have
cool accents and tell me a lot about the diversity on campus.  Of course
they're referring to race, religion etc, but also a little bit about
diversity as far as one's sexual orientation goes, although they don't know
about any gay clubs.  When I ask about gay dorms they they didn't think
there is such a thing and the gay conversation isn't of any interest to
them so they finish up their lunch and drift
 away.

I'm getting tired, but no way am I going back to the hotel without checking
out that street Mall to see my street singer again, but when I walk over he
wasn't there this time either, so I wander around looking in shop windows
and listening to the other street musicians.  I bought this big fat, soft
pretzel covered with large salt crystals. People were squeezing mustard on
their pretzel so I thought, what the fuck, I'll try that too.  Yum yum.
Then, there he is again, the street singer who sang to me yesterday.  He's
alone, standing in a group listening to a guy play the flute, of all
things. Not sure what to do because I hadn't planned
 anything; so, without a better plan, I just followed him as he wandered
around from group to group.  He seemed deep in thought. Each change of
position I got closer and closer until I was right next to him. "Heh,
hello...ha, how are you doing?" I manage to say.  He turns his head and
sees me, exclaiming, "Hey, it's my main 'Plain White T's' man!  I saw you
earlier this afternoon, didn't I?" And just like that we started talking as
we stood there together, like we actually knew each other.  He says he
can't believe he hasn't seen me around the university before, mistakenly
thinking I'm a student because he'd seen me on campus today. I told him
about me being a high school senior and the whole routine about me checking
the university out on my Senior Class trip. After about five minutes he
puts out his hand, and says, "I'm Cristobal Juarez, it's nice to meet
you....?"  I say, "Oliver Nickerson, the
 pleasure is mine".  We shake hands and afterwards he puts his arm across
my shoulders and we stroll off with him asking me what I want to see on
campus? I tell him, "I'd love to see a dormitory".  "Lets go, Oliver. I'll
show you mine."  As we walk he's very talkative and friendly. We talk about
the kinds of music we like and our favorite bands and did I play a musical
instrument and stuff like that.  He made me feel very relaxed and I wasn't
stuttering hardly at all.

His dorm is in a very old building.  It's one room basically, and he shares
it with a room mate, who's out at the moment.  I'm disappointed the dorm
isn't
 nicer, or bigger, or something.  Just a
 messy room.  I sit on his bed and he sits at his desk and we talk some
more.  I tell him about me singing in the church choir and he explains that
he earns extra pocket money doing the street musician gig three nights a
week and how he'd do it even if there wasn't money involved because it's a
rush getting applause. I tell him about me singing in the church choir and
he goes, "Let me hear you sing something," and after some encouragement I
sing some of the "Hey There Delilah" song. He claps saying I've got a
wonderful voice and we should sing it together for the tourist sometime. He
says there are a lot of tourist who come to see the University and a lot of
local people, in addition to all the college kids who shop and eat at the
street mall. So there's always plenty of foot traffic in that three block
area. While we're in his dorm room he gets a couple of calls on his cell
phone and near the end of the second one he says into the phone,
 "Okay, I'll stop
 over
 for a while. I'm
 bringing a friend with me."  To me he says, "Come on, Oliver, I'll show
you what a typical fraternity party looks like." He's so easy to get along
with. All during our time together I couldn't help but stare at him. I
guess I'll just have to say he's beautiful because this close up I can't
think of a better word to describe him.  In addition to being beautiful,
there's also something so 'kind' so 'nice' about him.  I love being with
him. We walk a slow fifteen minute walk, talking all the while with his arm
across my shoulders again.  It feels very comfortable and natural somehow,
and then there it was, the party.  A lot of guys and girls out front of an
old mansion. Well, it was big enough to be a mansion.  A girl comes right
up to Cris and he introduces me.  It's the anchovy I'd seen him with
earlier.  He keeps his arm
 across my shoulders which makes me feel awesome.  Her name's Candy and she
doesn't seem to think it odd that Cris has his arm across my shoulders.  We
talk for a couple of minutes then go inside for beers.  I'm not much of a
drinker, but I try to keep up with Candy, at least.  Cris was drinking
more, but it didn't seem to affect him much. The two of them talk about a
concert they'd been to last weekend.  They laugh a lot and Cris makes sure
he includes me in the conversation every minute or so.

There's music playing and after about a half an hour people begin dancing
and it's a very active party.  Lots of loud talking and laughter.  Candy's
off dancing with some guy who'd come over to ask her for a dance.  Cris is
singing along with a CD as I stare at him, and all of a
 sudden, he says,
 "Here Oliver, give me
 your beer."  I give it to him and he put both our beers on a step and
without a word he takes hold of my hand and begins slow dancing with me
with our crotches rubbing together. He just took it for granted that I'd
want to dance with him and he made it all seem, somehow, as if it were the
most normal thing in the world to do.  I'm stunned speechless.  First of
all, I can't dance.  And, obviously, that's secondary to the fact we're
both boys, and in the world I know about boys do not dance together. Very
quickly Cris says with a laugh, "Oh my God Oliver, you're a terrible
dancer. Here, follow me."  And he begins to teach me to dance.  Other kids
are all around us, but no one makes any comment or even looks over.
They're either seriously into themselves and don't notice us or, more
likely, they're used to seeing Cris dancing with boys. Slow dancing isn't
hard to pick up and I love feeling Cris' body. He puts his face
 next to mine and I naturally get a hard-on; I get a lot of hard-ons.  Oh
what a wonderful feeling to be in his arms.  I keep thinking that this
can't be happening, but of course it is.  He smells so good! We dance
through three songs. After the third song Cris picks-up his beer, leaving
his left arm around my waist, and tasting the beer, he goes, "Ugh!  Its
warm.  Lets get some cold ones," and off we go.  He made no effort to
explain why he'd started dancing with me or why he thought I'd be okay with
it.  There are questions I have for Cris, but I don't want to ruin this
most perfect time by asking them, so I save the questions for later.  This
is simply too
 excellent and too wonderfully exciting!

We have a fresh cold beer and Cris is telling me about the different
fraternities and how they all had a different approach to partying. I
finally just have to interrupted him because I'm so curious; I had to ask
this much at least. I go, "I've never danced with a boy before, have you,
Cris?"  He laughs telling me that of course he has, many times, but never
with a boy who dances as badly as I do. He said it with a very sweet smile
and he ruffled my hair as he said it, then added, "Or with a boy as cute as
you either." I was speechless, but thrilled!  He takes my hand and leads me
around the side of the huge porch that encircles the ground floor. When
we're alone he gently holds my head
 between his two hands and kisses my cheek, one at a time; first the top
one and then the other. His skimpy short beard is so soft I hardly feel it.
Quickly a kiss on both my lips, then a longer kiss on my lips which I open
for him. With my lips apart he put his tongue against my front teeth and
licks them, up and around his tongue goes, up under my top lip as I moan
and open my mouth and he French kisses me.  I'd never felt this way before.
He's taking his time kissing me with such passion I begin to feel dizzy. No
drama, I'm really dizzy because I'd forget to breath.  My boner's leaking
as he kissing my neck, just under my jaw, and then gently sucks
there. Shortly, I hump my hips a couple of times against his thigh,
involuntarily and climax in my pants while crying out a squeaky sound like
air escaping from a pin prick in a balloon.  I'm clutching him around his
waist so tightly
 he asks me to please loosen my hold a bit. "Oliver, you little hottie!
You just had an orgasm in your pants, didn't you?  You are so cute! I can't
tell you how happy I am that I found you again." Gasping for air from my
climax, a climax that felt better than any I could ever remember having.
He hands me his handkerchief and says, "Hurry Oliver, wipe inside your
pants before your cum soaks through. That would be embarrassing, no?"  He's
laughing again. I undo my pants and do what he'd suggested and he made it
all seem like fun and games.  Afterward, I kiss Cris on his lips and we
kiss and made-out for another ten minutes with my boner coming back again
and now I feel his hard boner against my thigh too.

Certainly this
 was the most sexually excited I've ever been. I want to make-out all
night, but Cris tells me how he hates to break it up, but he has to get
back because needs to study for a final exam he's taking in the morning.
"I wouldn't even have come over here tonight, Oliver, but I couldn't resist
the chance to get a few beers in you and loosen you up a little.  I thought
about your cute face all last night and I'm so glad I ran into you again at
the Mall again.  It's been fabulous!  Come on and walk me back to my dorm;
we'll make plans for tomorrow, okay?" In a fog of happiness I nod my head
and grin at him. Outside his dorm we kiss a little more and his hands rub
my body, particularly my ass; it's been truly a dream come true for me.
Out of no where this miracle happened.  We make plans for me to meet him,
after his classes, at the street mall tomorrow at three in the
afternoon. "I'll play guitar and
 sing for one or two hours and then the two of us will think of something
to do," and he'd said that last part with his wicked cute smile.  Every
time I think he's given me the last goodnight kiss he hesitate and comes
back for another one.  I would have stayed here all night, but he finally
does go in to study. I'm in that fog I mentioned all the way back to the
Holiday Inn. On the way back I went over every kiss and every touch from
Cris.  What a fantastic turn of events. After getting something to eat,
with me sort of floating, I drift up to my room and lay on my bed, again
going over each thing Cristobal and me did together.  He'd told me that his
father is Puerto Rican and his mother is half Irish and half Japanese.
What a fabulous combination and did it ever create a beautiful boy.
Talented and smart as hell too.  Not a brag, but you can't get in the
University of Pennsylvania unless you're at the top of
 your high school
 class. Running the water in the bathtub. I soak in there thinking about
the sensations he'd given me.  Brand new, totally unexpected sensuous
sensations and feelings of wonder and lust. Remembering how he tasted and
how he felt and his natural scent is wonderful; I couldn't get enough of
him.  If I'm not mistaken, and not projecting my own feelings on him, it
appears he couldn't get enough of me either. Isn't that the most startling
thing though; this geeky misfit in high school, without a friend in the
world, is somehow good enough to attract a hot, gorgeous, and smart boy
like Cris. Huh! I think of him as I slowly stroke my boner under the warm
water and I end up with my whole body shaking and my shoulders shuddering
in the water as I have a wild climax. Yes, Cris has shown me a truly brand
new level of sexual feelings. Real ones, not my fantasies of old.

It's difficult falling asleep because I can't stop thinking about him and
the possibilities of fulfilling my ultimate dream of having true gay sex
with a cute boy around my own age.  When I do go to sleep I dream of
Cristobal Juarez and wake up with the dream in my head. The dream is merely
about us two dancing, but it excites me so much I need to jerk off again.
It's only three o'clock in the morning as I shoot my third load
 of the evening.
 First in my pants with Cris, and then in the bathtub, and lastly jerking
off in bed thinking about that dream.  Three fabulous wanks.  He takes my
breath away like nothing else ever has; everything about him excites me.The
next morning I'm restless, thinking about what I'd do until it's time to
meet Cris at the street mall. To try getting my mind off him for a little
while I go on one of the hotel's sight seeing tours.  It lasts two hours
and it definitely is interesting and I'm glad I went because now I'll have
something to tell my parents.  I'm pretty sure I'm not going to be
mentioning my activities with Cristobal. Eating lunch in the hotel with the
senior class I actually talk to some of my classmates. It's fun listening
to them recount their adventures on the class trip and it seems they're
having a good time with a lot of laughs, but it also sounds like kid stuff
compared to my adventures. After killing some time walking around
 Philadelphia it's time for me to catch an elevated train to the
university.

Cris is already singing when I get to the outdoor mall and he looks so
cool. Today he's going with a continuation of his preppy look.  Last night
he'd told me he has three looks for his guitar and singing gigs at the
Mall: the homeless look that I saw him in the first day, a preppy look like
today, and his favorite one the punk look.  He'd showed me his punk outfit
with clip on piercings and he described the way he did a wild moused-up
hairdo.  We discussed it all in detail when we were in his room doing all
that talking yesterday. I like all his looks and can't imagine a look
 that I wouldn't like if Cristobal was involved. He doesn't notice me
standing here in his audience for the first couple of minutes and when he
does he brakes out in this big grin right in the middle of his song.
People saw the big grin and look over in the direction Cris is looking and
they had to notice me staring back at Cris and smiling like mad at him. He
shakes his head with a grin and a laugh and looks other places.  It made me
feel great to see his reaction when he saw me. He does a couple more songs
than tells everyone that he has a friend who is going to sing a number with
him, "Come on up, Oliver".  Oh, fuck no!  What if I screw this up? I wasn't
afraid I'd stutter because I never stutter when I sing, although I haven't
 been doing much singing lately. Cris is performing up on a big slab of
 granite about ten inches higher than the brick walkway where the audience
stands. What choice do I have? Make Cris look foolish is out of the
question, so I step up on the granite and Cris starts right in playing "Hey
There Delilah" and I start singing without thinking about it and we're off
and running.  We really do a helluva duet number on that song.  It sounded
great and everyone got into it and we get a big hand with calls for
another.

The crowd calls out "One more, one more," and there's lots of smiling so
maybe they think we're cute. See how Cris has improved my self confidence.
Cris looks at me and I whisper, "The only songs I know all the words to,
are "Delilah" and "Amazing Grace".  Cris gives me a look like, 'How do you
know that song?' as if I could ever forget it, but of course he doesn't
know my story.  He
 plays a
 little of it on the guitar and I sing it right out and it really comes
across good.  I close my eyes and with Cris singing along with me it sounds
just like I remembered me
 and
 Tyler doing it all
 those years so long ago.  Singing it again with Cris, who has Tyler's
sound-alike voice, is very moving to me. I'm proud of myself for not crying
although it was close.  Maybe I am growing-up.Tyler will always be in my
heart, but maybe I can live and love with another as well. We get another
great round of applause, maybe because that song seems to have quite an
affect on people. What a thrill I had! The applause and singing with Cris,
who sounds like Tyler; such a rush, such a blast from my past.  After
"Amazing Grace" Cris went back to doing his stuff and much later with an
all new audience we both did, "Delilah" and "Amazing Grace" for them. It's
almost five o'clock when Chris says he's totally wiped out. His baseball
cap has more money in it then at any other day he could remember, or maybe
he said that to make me feel good; it's the kind of thing I think he'd
do. He wants to split the money with me, but I won't take
 it.

We drift over to his dorm room to drop off his guitar and amp, then Cris
insists he's going to treat me to dinner. I feel like I've had a glow all
around me; the last twenty four hours has been so wonderful, and so much
fun, and so sexy.  Maybe the best twenty four hours of my life.  In his
room he puts his guitar away in it's case and casually puts his arms around
me to hug me to him.  Without speaking he has one hand cupping the back of
my head, just like Ryjohn did.  Cris rubs up the back of my head and takes
a hand full of my hair in his fist, his other arm around my waist, and his
lips cover mine and his delicious taste is all over my tongue.  He'd shaved
his little skimpy beard and he looks even younger now. The smoothness and
tightness of his face is very sexy
 and I licked up his cheek
 just like I'd done to that pizza shoppe boy a few days ago. My cock gets
hard immediately. The newness of kissing and being kissed by another boy,
one who is so attractive, has me quietly moaning with pleasure from the
very first touch. These sensations are all so new to me that they're having
a very powerful, instantaneous affect on my cock.  My body responds to him
totally and my boner is hard within seconds of contact, and quickly I'm
nearly delirious from his smell and his taste and his feel. I'm squirming
and cooing, with a tingling all over my body. Cris has a way of licking and
sucking my tongue that causes my boner to leak.  Everything he does
completely overwhelmes my senses with pleasure. It isn't long
 before
 I pull my lips away from his and, with the
 sides of our faces together, I take a deep breath and whisper, "Cristobal,
please, please, I'm going to cum too soon again and I want to enjoy the
feeling of being aroused longer."  He's hungry for me though and won't stop
kissing the side of my face and under my chin on my neck, and then just
like the night before I moan as a long stream of cum floods my underwear as
I struggle again for air; then more contractions in my groin and more
squirts of cum in my pants.  I grunt as I hump Cristobal's leg throughout
my climax.

This yummy pleasure feeling even tops what I experienced yesterday.  Unable
to speak because it's like otherworldly to me, I can only moan quietly in
intense pleasure as the after effects of my orgasm travel around my body.
What a feeling of ecstasy! I've gone through nineteen years of life waiting
for it and as
 waves of pleasure emanate from my groin to spread over my body I bask in
this new world of pleasure.
 Our faces are wet with our saliva as Cris slowly moved his lips back and
forth across my slippery cheeks, mumbling, "You're delicious, Oliver, and
many boys must have already told you that. I could just eat you with a
 spoon."  He undoes his
 pants and taking hold of my hand to pushed it down the front of his pants;
my first feel of another boy's erection. It feels exactly like mine, but
knowing it's his gets me blowing out little puffs of air as my shoulders
shudder and a chill runs through me. Continuing breathing with only little
bursts of air, I stroked his wonderful cock.  He's quietly saying, "Harder
Oliver, and faster please!  Oh yes, that's it.  Ah Ah...." as his cock
erupts between us shooting his orgasm straight up.  Cum on both our
T-shirts as he's breathing hard all through his climax.  When Cris is calm
enough, in a breathy voice, he mumbles, "Hey, look at the mess I made,
Oliver. I know you did it again in your pants, you horny boy you.  Ya
better clean that cum out of your pants again or you'll be eating dinner
with a big wet spot on your zipper.  I'll get us a
 couple of clean T-shirts to."  He's laughing again. We share a cold coke
and then wearing Cris' clean T-shirts, then we go outside to a beautiful
spring night.  As we approach the outdoor Mall to eat at a favorite spot of
Cris' I clumsily half-stepped off a curb and trip badly on a broken sewer
grate, going down like I was shot.  The pain in my ankle is piercing and
it's so bad I can't even scream at first.  Then I curse, "God damn it!
Fuck!" as I try to get up.  Cris is trying to help, but the pain is intense
right now. Way to screw up a magical night, Oliver! That's what I'm
thinking. It takes a minute for me to even pull myself up enough so I can
sit on the curb, my leg with the wounded ankle stretched out in front of
me.  I really want to cry like a
 baby
 from the pain, but that's out of the question of course.  Cris is asking
me stuff, but I can't focus on what he's saying just yet. The pain, plus
I'm so pissed off at myself I can't concentrate.

Cris kneels next to me asking what he can do to help.  The high shrill pain
in my ankle is down to a throbbing ache now and I can handle that.  I say,
"Oh man, I'm sorry. I couldn't talk for a minute there.  I twisted my ankle
when I tripped and this white pain dominated my senses, I guess.  Jesus
Christ, I never had anything hurt like that before.  Would ya help me to
stand?"  Cris grabs under my armpits from behind and pulls me up, but I
can't put any pressure on my foot with the hurt ankle.  He holds on to me,
and with me hopping on my good foot we get over to a low brick wall and I
sit on it.  Cris
 takes out his cell phone and calls his room mate who quickly
 shows up in a brand new
 Mini Cooper convertible. The room mate is only a little over five feet
tall, maybe five foot three inches. He weighs maybe a hundred and fifty
pounds, much of it muscles.  His T-shirt bulges with muscles.  His head's
shaved and he had many, many tattoos.  Every fingers has a ring on it and
that included his thumbs. He looks a little scary, but when we're
introduced he's the nicest guy you'd ever hope to meet.  His name is Davis
Moore. Davis picks me up and puts me in the front passenger seat.  Cris
gets in the tiny back seat, but with Davis being so short the driver's seat
is way up and Cris therefore has a little leg room.  My seat is pushed all
the way back so I can stretch out my leg with the injured ankle.  It's kind
of weird, but the Mini is a very small car so Cris and me are almost
sitting next to
 each other.  Me in
 the front and him in the back.

Davis drives us to a hospital emergency room and both guys helped me hobble
in.  This hospital isn't far from the university; students have been known
to do stupid things even if they're smart enough to get in Pennsylvania
University, so there are plenty of people in the waiting room when we get
there. Universities are full of nineteen to twenty-two year old kids and
there are countless ways for kids in that age group to injure themselves,
which is why more than half the people waiting to be seen by a doctor are
students. Amazingly, even with a full room of patients who all needed
attention, we get immediate admittance without even checking in at the
front desk.  I realized why we get this special treatment when the
beautiful emergency room doctor comes right over to us and kissed Cris,
saying, "Hi,
 Baby.  I hear your boyfriend has a boo boo?"  Then she goes, "Davis, did
you get another fucking tattoo?"  Davis proudly mutters, "I got two more
since I last saw you, Dr Juarez."  Dr Juarez?  I'm no dummy so I figure out
right away that the Doctor is Cris' mother.  After an X-ray verifies there
are no broken bones, the doctor feels around
 my ankle and concludes I have a number one level sprain. "Not too bad at
all." she mumbles, which is easy for her to say; maybe it's 'Not too bad at
all', but for me it hurt real bad. Anyway, she expertly wraps my ankle
using an elastic bandage and then instructs a nurse to wrap the bandage
with a chemical cold pack.  Jesus, that thing got wicked cold, immediately!
The nurse gives me some cheap looking crutches and tells me to stay off the
ankle until it stops hurting, which I'm pretty sure I'd have done without
her telling me. "How long will it take to heal?" I ask and she says, "Um,
lets say four to ten days," which doesn't narrow down the time frame all
that much, but I just nod my head like I'd actually learned something. I
guess it seems to me that the hospital people are awfully, um, blasé
about my ankle sprain. To them it's a yawner, but to me it's a painful
inconvenience. Still, if there's nothing else that will help,
 whaddaya gonna do?

While Dr Juarez did not appear to consider my injury an interesting
concern, she was interested in questioning Cristobal about why he hadn't
showed up for Sunday dinner last weekend.  Also she wanted to know what
kind of grades he think's he'll be getting this semester, and she comes
right out, in front of me, to ask him if I'm his latest boyfriend, and how
old was I because, "He don't look eighteen to me, Christobal and
 you better not be fucking around
 with under age boys or I'll do surgery on your private parts." Cris
laughed easily, obviously used to his mother's concerns, and her potty
mouth. He confirms I'm nineteen and that he's getting good grades and tells
her not to worry so much. Still nosy, the doctor asks him how Cris knows
me, and how did I hurt my ankle and, "It better not have been during some
degenerate sex act," and on and on and on she goes, Cristobal making
wiseass comments to each query and with me sitting right there, but being
ignored by Doctor Juarez.  It was actually fun, and funny, because it all
seemed so natural between mother and son that obviously it's their normal
way of communicating; almost like peers. Davis and I just exchange smirks
because, like I said, it was like we weren't even there.  Everything was
basically light banter back and forth between Cris and his mother. When
they're finally done, his doctor-mother kisses Cris again, then says,
"Oliver's
 your cutest boyfriend yet," and to Cris, "I hope you can keep him longer
then you managed to hold on to Mikey!" I'm liking these references to me
being cute, but how come no one in my hometown noticed that? When we're
leaving she looks at me and warmly tells me how wonderful it's been meeting
me, which surely is an exaggerations since we haven't exchanged ten words
with each other. Cris' mother says bye to Davis, and then adds,
 "Now I need to take care of my real emergency room patients." Nobody takes
my painful ankle sprain seriously except me. Damn!

Trying to get used to my crutches, we make it outside and amazingly that
entire emergency room experience took no more then ten minutes. Good to
know the emergency room doctor, or better yet, be the son of the emergency
room doctor. Davis drives us to the Holiday Inn and as he pulls up to the
front door, Cris says, "Davis, thanks, my man! You rock! I'll take the
train back to school after I get Oliver settled." Davis goes, "No fucking
problem, bro. You take care, Oliver!" I mutter my thanks, wobbling on my
crutches which seem too high for my size. Cris rubs my head smiling at my
difficulty with the crutches, then, as Davis puts the car in gear, Cris
mumbles to Davis, "Thanks again you scary looking fucker!" I say my thanks
again
 too,
 but he just waves it off and asks Cris, "Shall I hold my breath until you
get back to the dorm, Juarez?"  Cris laughs, saying, "Maybe you better not.
See ya later dude." Hmmm, Davis is assuming Cris is going to stay with me
in my room.  I sure hoped he's right, or he could have just been kidding.
Cris is carrying something in a brown paper bag as we make our way to the
front door of the Holiday Inn. Me hobbling unsteadily along on my crutches,
we use the
 elevator because there's no way I'd be able to negotiate three flights of
stairs on these crutches.  Luck was with me again in that no one from the
high school sees me coming in or going up on the elevator. It's almost
seven o'clock by the time we get in my room and Cris nods his approval,
with a smile, at the room.  Perhaps he's impressed with how neat it is
compared to his messy dorm room. He helps get me seated and I take the
opportunity to rub my face against his cheek and inhale his boyish clean
smell. I got it bad for him, but I don't want to make a fool of myself by
gushing that I'm in love, or some other dumb thing like that. I'll be cool
and take it for granted that he's attracted to me, although inside I'm
thrilled beyond words. Cris picks up the room service menu, grinning at me,
and says, "I promised you dinner, Oliver, and dinner you shall have.  What
would you like?"  We settle on a large cheese pizza and a couple orders
 of barbecued chicken wings.

While we wait for the food, he pulls two bottles of red wine from the paper
bag, and says, "Look what Davis bought for me." I stupidly, say, wine?" as
if it was a guessing game. He laughs, saying, "Good guess," then, "In our
house we drink wine with dinner. I had my first glass of wine when I was
thirteen years old.  Every dinner since then, when I'm home, I have wine to
drink with the evening meal.  Do you drink anything?"  I tell him I haven't
had the opportunity until now, but
 I'd like to try it with
 him.  He pour some in the plastic cups he finds in the bathroom and I take
a sip. It's worse than not good, it's horrible, but of course I force it
down because I want to be sophisticated like Cristobal.  I love being with
him for many reasons; he's so relaxed and easy going, and it's obvious he
likes me. It's very exciting too being with my first gay sort of
boyfriend. I know I'm getting carried away, but he gives me compliments and
kisses, and he let me feel his dick too. Haha, I guess I'm infatuated with
him and I'll bet a lot of other gay boys are as well.  He asks how I'm
doing, and how do I like the wine, and would I like him to turn on the TV,
or some music maybe.  Oh my God, he's so nice and considerate of me and
it's awesome to be noticed and even doted on. New experiences for
me. Please let my luck continue because I want to experience the ultimate
gay act with this awesome boy. I feel so lucky, good luck finally found me
 after a lifetime of bad luck.

We decide on some music as we drink our wine and talk. Cris is a wonderful
conversationist without asking probing questions; I almost wish he would
because somehow I think it would be good for me to unload my list of
problems while growing up. It wouldn't be fair to do that I suppose, and
I'm not actually looking for sympathy anyway; it's more I'd like
understanding from a peer. It's hard to carry on my part of the
conversation and be honest with him, without some of my history coming
out. I mean I had a lonely and sad childhood, to say the least. Our pizza
and chicken wings arrive and we drink the wine and eat the food and one
thing leads to another and I finally tell Cris about my lousy high school
experience.  He listens with a frown on his face, like he can hardly
believe his ears, but he gives me his total
 attention. Once I get started I can't stop and tell him how I've yearned
for a gay friend to experiment with gay sex and that I'm a virgin and so
forth. I'm hoping I don't sound too pathetic, but maybe my life has been
pathetic. Cris has a way of listening while maintaining eye contact that
makes it seem like what I'm telling him is the most interesting and
important stuff he'd ever heard.  Beginning with this year's experience,
going backwards in my life history, I finally get to the part about my best
friend who's dead, Tyler. I tell the story briefly without a lot of
details, but he's astonished I'd blame myself and wonders out loud if it
isn't more likely Tyler committed suicide than anything else. I reject that
as impossible, but still it seems many come to that conclusion
independently, although I still refuse to believe it. Then to change the
subject he asks how old I was when I knew I was gay and that made me
realize I'd never asked him how
 he knew
 I was gay? I wanted to ask, but one thing led to another and I
didn't. Maybe I was afraid of the answer. I'd hate to think I'm swishing,
or whatever it's called, because I've always maintained that I like boys
who are gay, but are like straight boys in other ways. Not flamers, in
other words.

After I assured him I was aware of my preference for boys at an early age
he tells me he'd known he was gay very early in his life as well.  Maybe as
young as nine or ten years old. He and his parents discussed it with him
endlessly and as the years went on the three of them agreed that, yes
indeed, Cristobal was gay. And it was no problem.  They provided all the
medical information about AIDS and other medical concerns regarding
homosexual sex and lots of gay literature for Cris to peruse as he
wanted. It's too bad more parents of gay children don't do
 the same. A
 support system sure would have been nice to have, but I can't blame my
parents or Christian because I was never brave enough, like Cris, to tell
them I'm gay. Cris attended private schools from first grade all the way
through high school, so it helps having rich parents, not all the time
perhaps, but usually it does I would think.  Being gay was
 simply not an issue for Cris all his life, no more of an issue that
 being tall or short or anything else a boy or girl might be.  He'd had a
wonderful childhood and wonderful life, so good for him. I don't feel
jealous and I've tried not to feel sorry for myself through all my
troubles. The troubles have probably made be stronger, if anything.  We
talk through our dinner and continue talking as Cris ran water in the
bathtub wanting the two of us to take a bath together.  I was a bit shy at
first, although the idea of doing that is exciting beyond words. I'm not
used to getting naked in front of anyone, but Cris is so casual about it,
like it's the most natural thing in the world, that I just followed his
lead marveling at how much more mature he is compared to me and we're
basically the same age.  He makes no comment about my skinny body and
that's probably because he has a skinny body too... haha.  We both are
uncut and average size in the penise department.  Nothing special to
comment
 on.

Nothing special to comment on until both of us are bare ass naked and he's
helping me get into the tub of hot water with my sore ankle and his naked
body rubs my naked body and I spring another bonner.  Cris laughs so hard,
as I'm blushing to beat the band. He says, "You
 are the horniest guy on
 the fucking planet, Oliver.  Jesus Christ, relax!  We got a lot of fun
ahead of us, dude."  That's all well and good, but my boner stays up.  It
floats in the water between my legs as Cris climbs in behind me and I lay
back against his chest.  Oh, another wonderful new feeling, another
wonderful new sensation.What a fantastic senior class trip!  Surprising
myself, I reach down to get hold of both of Cris' wrists, then pull his
arms around me. He says, "This is nice, Oliver." Cris made sure both our
plastic cups of wine, and the wine bottle, are in reach.  We're on the
second bottle now and I'm a bit more use to drinking it, but I'm not saying
it tastes any better; I can get the vial liquid down easier then I could at
first, that's about it.  Cris wants to hear more about Tyler. I tell him
that Tyler, sexually, was very straight and he asks why I'm so sure of
that, and I guess I just took
 Tyler at face value that he wasn't gay. Cris tells me that lots of young
gays are in denial and some of the most outspoken people against a gay life
style are the ones trying to convince themselves they're not gay. I'm not
knowledgable enough about it, so I say nothing and then Cris wants to
 hear more about our friendship, not sex necessarily. I tell him about the
choir and about our teachers every year who claimed we were both the
smartest kids they'd ever had in their classroom, and I tell him about the
funny stuff too, and how Tyler was always making up outlandish stuff to get
me to laugh at the wrong time. As I talk we're bathing each
other. Realizing how close Tyler and I were Cris is understanding of the
difficulty I had dealing with his death.  Telling all of this to Cristobal
took a while and we're ready to get out of the tub by the time I run out of
things to say. Cris pulls the plug, closes the shower curtain and turns on
the shower to rinse us off. We hug under the raining shower water and it's
awesome touching bare body to bare body. My boner went down some time ago,
sadly.. haha.

After drying we lay naked together under the top sheet of the bed, our
bodies touching. I feel comfortable being naked with Cris and maybe the
wine has something to do with that. We finished both bottles and I'm
feeling a little nauseous from it although Cris drank twice as much as me.
He has his arms around me and I pick up his right arm and rub the back of
his wrist against my nose to smell the unique, sexy odor of his skin.  He
snuggles with me and hugs, then kisses me, and quietly asks, "Oliver, can I
be the first boy to make love to you?" It's what I've been wanting for
these many years so I don't hesitate. I nod my head, quietly saying, "I
hoped you'd ask, or even just do it. I told you I've been yearning for it,
but I never expected it would be with someone as special as you. He smiles,
saying, "Thank you for that, Oliver, can it be here, now?" I go, "Yes,
please."  He kisses me again, rubbing his hand on my stomach, then into my
pubes giving
 me shivers. Cris massages my cock and balls until my cock is hard; it
doesn't take much massaging either. After stroking my boner a few timed, he
explains he has a lubed condom in his jeans and then he gives me a little
lecture about the importance of using condoms and claims because of his
parents' insistence he's never had sex without a condom. I was hoping to
feel his bare boner in me, so I shrug, then say, "Yeah, I can see that, but
since I've never had sex of any kind with anybody, and you've never had sex
without a condom; well, wouldn't it be safe for us to do it just this one
time without a condom? If you don't want to, I'll understand. It's just
that my dream about my first time never included a condom."  We're laying
on our backs with me using Cristobal's bicep as my pillow, and while we
discuss the condom conundrum he's twirling a strand of my hair with his
fingers.  It's so comfortable being naked in bed with Cris, just the sheet
 covering us. He thinks about it for a minute or so and then turns his head
to look at me. He stares at me until I turn my head to face him with a
questioning expression on my face. Smiling, he goes, "Well Oliver, sure. It
makes sense the way you put it and I'm curious if it'll be much different
for me. I don't think you'd notice much, if any, but I might. No condom
this time, but being it's your first time we probably should use some kind
of lube. You got anything we can use?" I have some greaseless vaseline that
I used to keep my lips from getting chapped in the winter.  It's spring
now, but a half a tube of the cream is still in my toilet kit.  My heart's
pounding with as I hop on one foot to get it.

Back in bed Cris said, "Let me
 have a
 little more of those tasty, hot lips of yours, Oliver," and we begin
kissing gently. Then, with Cris; cheek next to mine he whispers, "I can
feel your heart beating fast and I remember how excited I was my first time
too".  He quietly adds, "Just lay on your side now, Oliver, and I'll put
some of this lube on that tight little hole of yours."  He rubs vaseline on
my hole and I get even more excited and aroused, finally my wish is coming
true. Finally something I'd been dreaming about for years is about to
happen and along with my excitement is so worry. Worry it'll hurt or that
it'll be disappointing, although I doubt very much it'll be disappointing.
Shortly he works his finger up inside me and I'm already squirming from the
pleasurable feeling of having his finger inside of my rectum.  Just being
handled like this by another boy is such a turn-on for me I need to take a
deep
 breath because it feels so good.
 Especially because the boy doing it is Cristobal. He's working two fingers
inside me and then, as I lay on my side with my knees pulled up to my
chest, I feel the fat head of his cock pushing gently up against my
distended anus.  He applies a little more pressure and it slipped inside
me. Immediately a string of pre cum drools down my boner.  My mouth is open
and just the knowledge that his cock is inside me has me shivering and
squirming and licking my lips.  My chin is soon shiny with my own spit and
little moans of pleasure escape my mouth. It feels extremely tight and
there is some pain, but much less than I expected and the pain's
overwhelmed by the awesome feeling of finally being fucked. He pushes in
ever so slowly and what a new and unique feeling it is to be so filled-up
back there.  It feels like Cris is sticking a foot long log in me, but I
know it's barely six inches long. He's being
 considerate by going very slowly and then I hear him let a lot of
 air out of his lungs and grunt softly as if he too is enjoyed the feeling
of my tight hole surrounded his throbbing, hard cock. I want to scream I'm
so thrilled this is happening, but try for cool instead. Finally he says in
a breathy voice, "Oliver, I'm all the way in you.  How does it feel?"  I
tell him it's the strangest feeling, but I've never felt anything I liked
better.  He kissed the side of my face, and says, "Turn your head, Oliver,
so we can kiss."  As we kiss he pulls his cock out a little bit and pushed
it back in and everything is feeling totally dreamy to me.  Then he pulled
out further and the swollen, slippery head of his cock pushes on my
prostate button as he slides in and out of me.  I exclaim, a little too
loudly, "Oh my God, right there, Cris." then I moan, "Ahhh, oh, oh. Mmmm,
mmm, right there...oh my God, Cristobal.  Right there, please do it some
more," as I stroke my cock with my shoulders
 shuddering.

He stimulated my prostate with quick thrusts of his hard, swollen cock head
and in less than
 two minutes I squeal out, arch my back and hump my hips forward as cum
streams out of me harder then I've ever cum before in my entire life.  My
cum shoots straight out of my pee slit, burning from the force of the
stream.  The tightening of my anus as I shot off my initial long stream of
spunk causes a moan of pleasure from Cris. Then more groans of pleasure as
I follow the first stream with five or six follow-up squirts. Cristobal's
grunting and blowing a lot of air on the back of my head as he pumps my ass
hard, faster and faster. Even after climaxing it's such a pleasurable
feeling to be fucked, better than I dreamed, and I'm hoping it goes on for
quite awhile. I quietly moan with pleasure and maybe three minutes later
Cris humps into me hard making a desperate sound as he wraps his arm around
me to hold me tight against him and he pumps his spunk up my ass doing
little thrusts with only his hips. It sounds a little bit like he's in
pain,
 although I know he's
 not. I felt his first strong cum stream explode deep inside me and after
that I feel how squishy my hole is now and he adds to the squishiness as
subsequent contractions squirt more of his cum inside me and I need to
stroke my cock again just visualizing that.  Cum drools out of my ass when
he pulls his boner out breathing deeply. His face is flush as he grins at
me and strokes himself. "Awesome ass, Oliver. Just fabulous!" Then I feel
the sweat on Cristobal's face as he presses his face next to mine and hugs
me tightly, then kisses the side of my face, asking, "How was it, Oliver?"
"Only the best thing that's ever happened to me," I say, "And the most sexy
and pleasurable experience of my life. It was better that my fantasies,
better than I imagined it could be." He chuckles, asking, "So you enjoy it
a little, huh?"

Later that night Cris fucks me
 while
 I
 lay on my back with my knees pushed back next to my chest.  He kneeled
between my legs and pushed his boner inside my ass and from time to time he
would lay on top of me, belly
 to belly, with his hard
 cock as far up inside me as he could get it and we kissed and sucked each
others tongues as our bellies moved together getting all sweaty and
slippery.  This naturally got my twitching cock, which was squeezed between
our bellies, wet and slippery with that same sweat and it was all so dreamy
and erotic it boggles my mind. Almost too many pleasure sensation to keep
up with. New and exciting and so sexy I can hardly control myself. Just
when I'd start to think nothing could feel better than this he'd go up on
his knees and hold both my legs up with a hand on each of my ankles, a foot
on either side of his beautiful face, and he'd fuck me hard for a couple of
minutes, then he'd pump me slowly with long deep thrusts and it all felt so
slippery and yummy and perfect.  We went much longer before exploding our
creamy orgasms the second fuck.  Cris didn't use a condom this time either
and I felt the cum squeezing out around his cock, drooling
 down my
 buttocks, as he pumped me slowly after his big cummy climax.  Truly, I've
had hundreds of fantasies about a cute guy fucking me, but I never dreamed
it would ever feel this good.  I love looking at Cristabal as he fucks me,
so later when he did me a third time, very early in the morning, he did me
the same way, on my back so we could look at each other.  He did deep, slow
thrusts for a long time and it was the perfect erotic experience with no
hurry, just that juicy sexy feeling that you hope will go on forever.  But
eventually there is an impossibly fabulous feeling in your groin and the
ensuing climax totally overwhelms every nerve ending in your body and you
try to take in as much of it as possible.  Nothing in life feels as good.
The third climac in six or seven hours didn't generate a great deal of
spunk for me or Cristobal, but all the sensations are pretty much the same
as our earlier
 climaxes.

Nothing before in my life felt nearly as good as being fucked by Cristobal;
nothing comes remotely close to it and I'm going to enjoy this feeling as
often as I can to make up for all the years I've gone without. I love being
fucked by a cute boy.  I've never felt as close to another person either,
as when I was having sex with Cris.  Not even with Tyler, but of course
Tyler and me never had sex together.  Having consensual sex, wanting it and
happily letting someone fuck you is obviously a very personal, private
experience between two people and it creates, for me, a closeness with
Cristobal I'd never felt with anyone before. The affection we felt for each
other was in the air all around us.  We didn't talk of love, we both know
that it's too soon for real love to have developed between us, but there
was that very
 real
 affection and it couldn't be any nicer.  We really, really, really like
each other. The odd fact is that if I hadn't had that
 trip off the curb and sprained my ankle maybe we never
 would have had the opportunity to spend those hours together in my room .
Prior to me tripping, neither Cristabol nor I mentioned coming back to my
hotel room. Once in the room together everything just fell into place.  So,
that is really the "trip" in my high school senior class trip that I'll
always remember the most; the trip I had on the trip. Maybe Cris would have
fucked me on campus someplace, but it wouldn't have been like
this. Cristobal told me when we were in the bathtub together that he would
be traveling in Europe most of the summer.  The European trip was sponsored
by the University and had been planned back in January. So we
 won't see
 each other again until next fall when I start my freshman year at the
University.  Cris and I are the same age as I expected, because I stayed
out of the eight grade that year after Tyler's death. I wonder if we would
have met, Cris and I, if I started here when I normally should have. We'd
have been freshman together and wouldn't that have been something! A entire
year of fucking.

After our early morning fuck we both had quickly fallen back to sleep.  I
wrapped my arms and legs around Cristobal and went to sleep as happy as
I've ever been in my life, all my past problems forgotten.  When I wake up
a few hours later Cris is in the bathroom showering.  I pull his pillow
over and sink my face in it to smell his unique special smell.  He comes
out of the bathroom all shiny clean wearing a pair of my socks and a pair
of my boxer shorts.  He smiles at me, saying "Good morning, Oliver," then
gets dressed in the T-shirt and jeans he wore yesterday and came over to
the bed. He says, "Parting is such sweet sorrow, Oliver.  What the hell
does that mean anyway?  Wish I could come up with the right words to
express how wonderful this has been for me, but I'm not much good with
words.  Just let me say that in the short time I've known you it's obvious
to me that you are a very special person and I'd like to continue to get to
know you
 better.  I've had sex with only three boys, you being the third, Oliver.
You mean much more to me already than the other two put together.  You and
me have something together that is extra special, so please don't forget me
over the summer.  I'm looking forward to the fall when I'll be back here at
the University with you.  I can't wait to see your cute face and kiss you
again."  He bends down to me as I lay in bed, my eyes stuck on him, and he
kisses my forehead holding the kiss for a while.

I get the stutters again when I tried to speak and Christobal put his
finger gently on my two lips and says.."Shhhh, don't say anything, Oliver.
You'll have me crying.  I know how you feel about me and it's right back at
you.  Kiss me goodbye, Oliver, and remember, goodbye doesn't have to mean
forever, and with us it most certainly does not.  It means we'll see each
other in a few months."  We kiss a sweet kiss and he walks out the door
without looking back.  I lay there hugging his pillow thinking that dreams
do come come true. And for the first time in as long as I can remember, I'm
looking forward to all my tomorrows again.

to be continued...  Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com

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