Date: Sun, 4 Jun 2006 06:18:50 -0500
From: Timothy Stillman <comewinter@earthlink.net>
Subject: g/m college "Te Adore"

				"Te Adore"

				    By

			       Tim Stillman


They placed their hands side by side on the bed. Thereby pledging their
love. They kissed. And it was the first time. For both of them, as they
touched tentatively each, the other's shoulders. They kissed tentatively. It
was winter, and warm in their dorm room. They pressed their lips against
each other's more firmly now. Each trembling a bit, each daring not to get
excited, for there had been sadness in each boy's life that had gotten to
the bone, and they dared not trust, as they sat side by side, fully clothed,
trusting.

A small nervous laugh escaped one of the boys. They drew their faces back a
bit from each other. One thought, "Te adore, Antone." He did not however
have the courage to say it. They smiled and were each other's entire world.
They would need no world save for the other. They would live here in
paradise forever. One turned a bit to the side. They wanted this to be a
movie and to know what to say and do. They wanted the bad memories to go
away. They both were thinking of "West Side Story"-"you're making a joke?"
says Tony to Maria. "No. I do not know how to joke like that. And now I
think I never will." If they only knew and if one had only said.then one boy
leaned his head and placed it on the shoulder of the other. They felt each
other's warmth. The sensuality and the boldness each felt, and thought, in
all their clumsiness, they were doing it correctly and definitively, though
at the same time, knowing this was not so. "Te adore, Antone" the other boy
now thought. With a rush of fear. Keep it like a movie. Keep it like a
movie.

They wore long sleeved shirts and thick jeans, though each was barefooted.
The rug under their feet felt warm, soft, nubby. They turned, not in synch,
to each other again. Sitting side by side, directing only their faces again
to the other, the one boy having lifted his head from laying on his friend's
shoulder. They kissed again and tasted mint and Listerine simultaneously. A
tongue darted to the other's lips, then darted back, shyly. They both had
erections. Their love had been a slow one for one of the boys. Fast, the
very moment eyes laid on, for the other, in a split second. Neither believed
the other was gay. Both said they were not. One lied.

The boy who fell in love immediately knew his heart would always be here,
that wherever he went, he would be coming back to this moment. When he saw
him. And fell in love. And such a long time later then-this.

His friend had had girlfriends and did not really pay much attention to him
for a long time. Then gradually and incrementally things happened, nebulous
things, inconsequential moments that turned on a hair and then were gone,
but had left such a wake of impending revelation behind. For one,
sustenance. For the other, curiosity and sexual desire.

They had seen each other naked. Going to the shower and coming back. Partly
naked. Dressing for classes. Sleeping in their underwear. And silent snow
was out tonight and Christmas was up ahead, and they sat on the bed and
could not remember who had made the first move, if indeed either had made
the first move. And the boy who was so good, seemingly so, with the girls,
no, who was good with the girls, was so clumsy now, so trembly. Just like
his friend.

One touched the other's crotch and held the outlined erection beneath his
fingers. Traced it. Made it jump. The erection throbbed. The other boy held
his friend's erection the same way. Traced it. Made the erection jump.

 They felt to the core of each other. God, each thought, God. "This was
real. God. This is really happening." Rosemary Woodhouse to Anton LeVey,
Satan himself.

That this was sex and beyond and doors opening inside them and they felt
freer than either had ever been, as they kissed not like trying to figure
out why and how to do it, playing it like they had seen in films, but in
their own way, in their own to this point individual worlds, but now they
kissed hard and tongue tips touched. They held each other. One said, drawing
back, nothing. Started to say something. Then they kissed. This would be
done without words. Words could trip a person up. Words could drive the
other away. Words could mean each or one or the other was taking this
seriously, and was ready at a moment's notice to say oh come on I was just
kidding around, you know that.and the other would laugh and say, sure thing,
course, me too, let's see what's on at the movies tonight. So. No words.
Each thinking then. Words. And what would come to fill in the blank of their
absence. They felt so tenderly warm. They wanted to be closer than it was
ever possible to be.

One's hand reached into the other boy's shirtfront, and down his chest to
touch a taut nipple. The other did the same to his friend. And then their
bodies turned finally to each other and one lay on top the other. They
rubbed their bodies together. They rubbed their hard ons together. They lay
side by side now and unzipped their jeans and each boy pulled out his own
erection. Their eyes looked so closely at the other's and their own, and
then then lay beside each other and held and groped and pulled out shirts
and felt chests with feverish hands.

They were a parabola of sheer human deliciousness. The boy of the girl
friends had never felt so needful and so fulfilled, though he still
preferred girls, he knew, and would think so, after this, long after this.
And they pressed their faces together, their cheeks together, and their
naked chests were adhering to each other. They had no chest hair. They were
thin and had long hair. They had long legs and their penises were sculpted
perfectly, just the kind of penises each boy knew the other would have. This
of course was the first time they had seen each other's erection.

They played with the penises. They laughed and felt good. They kissed each
other's necks and they felt the throbbing of the pulse in those necks, and
with their hands, the pulses in those cocks, and balls, (I'm really feeling
them! Utter transcendence and joy-don't get too carried away, don't let him
trap you into being a dodo, easy does it) but right now, there was the need
of electricity, to shock each other into rampant sexuality, to push them
over the edge into, not what they guessed they should do next and next, to
what they wanted to do next and next. They felt fashion go out the window
into the cold snowfield night. They felt the instrumentality of each other
replacing the instrumentality of how it should be. For one, the matching of
how he made out with girls, to resemble how to make out with this boy, used
as a template. For the other, the dreams and secret masturbation at night
when his friend was asleep on the other side of the room. Making impossible
love dreams. Sex dreams. Fearing to be found out. Wanting to be. No dreams.
No imitations. Themselves. Now.

And they were out of their clothes soon, all tangled, awkward; the shy boy
fell down on the floor as he tried to get out of his jeans. His friend
helped him and they were laughing, but then back to this, and this was being
naked with each other, out of the envelopes that had restrained them and
covered them and hidden their bodies and they looked at each other, all
over. They felt each other and touched and examined, as though one boy was
an alien to be contemplated after millions of years wondering who lived on
those stars and planets up in the night sky.

Then the other boy felt his Earthling counterpart's body, thinking the same
thing. Their cocks together felt funny, felt odd, felt unique, felt the warm
and hardness, felt the throb from penis to penis, felt the skin and the
ridges and the heads and the edge at the bottom of the heads which provided
a nice place to rest your fingers against as you masturbated, and to help
you gage yourself, like a little ridge on a ruler, to give definition, to
define the border of territory.

They were in the light of the lamp on the nearby table. There were enough
shadows however to make it even sexier. The wind outside howled. Snow would
be piled up even deeper in drifts before morning came. Please, one thought,
don't let morning ever come. They were at this point, lovers.

They had not talked much, as roommates. They knew a bit about each other.
Backgrounds. Bare bones stuff. Now bare naked stuff. And now they explored
and now the shy boy took this huge step and leaned his face down and traced
with tongue tip, his friend from neck to navel and then to abdomen and then
stopped, hands at his friends' nipples. He tasted wonderful.

He wanted to do it. But he was so scared. This could be the thing that made
it all go wrong. Guys jack off as kids, sometimes with each other, because
to them it was just a joke, but not to him, and it was terribly unfair, when
he wanted to do what they didn't care about, with them, and he wasn't
allowed--but to suck his friend's cock, this was where his friend would push
him away, or bash his head in like Joe Buck did to the man who came onto him
in "Midnight Cowboy" and kill him for sure.

There was a moment of tension in each boy. Each deciding in his own way, for
his own reasons, and for reasons both boys had that they had not thought of.
They were passionate now, far from the adding machines they had been in the
stick figure leading one the other up to this if one led the other at all,
but now they stopped, and now they were perspiring and now each boy felt his
friend's body tightening, alert. The shy boy looked at his friend's
erection, harder it seemed than even before, and he breathed warmly on it,
and the penis trembled a bit as though it was a frond on a palm tree on a
South Seas island in lazy eternal summer salt breeze. He felt his friend's
hand on the back of his head. To push him away of course. And to die him for
sure after this one way or another.

But the hand was pushing his head down toward the waiting penis, so he did
it slowly, nuzzling in the sparse dark pubic hair and then his hand to the
hard device that held his lips to it almost as though the penis were kissing
him.

 He examined it, the slit especially, and touched it with his tongue which
made his friend sigh and raise up on his elbows and look at his roommate now
taking inch by inch his cock into his mouth, expecting violence at any
moment, but his friend felt the warmth and wetness and the teeth and tongue
and his cock strained and his balls were large and they felt so tight they
might explode, so he put his hands hard on the back of the boy's head and
made him less shy by the second, and the boy, heart throbbing hard, he's
going to let me, he wants me to do it, and was so incredibly excited, and he
developed the rhythm of being a cock sucker.

 He rushed his lips and slowed down and then at the urging of his friend's
hands, pushed up and down in rhythm, and then far far too soon the cum and
it rushed into his mouth and it was his friend rushing into his mouth, it
was his friend's life, the essence of the boy he adored, the adaptation of
the most secret thing his friend had, the most romantic feeling and tasting
and textured giving of love-making love-that was what this was.

Yes, and he swallowed and enjoyed and thought, you do make something when
you make love, there is a symbol, a talisman in white liquid thick, there is
this precious product that comes to you from your true love and it is inside
you and it makes you him for a moment and gives you cause to reflect and
remember that it is waiting, he is waiting, to make love again, to make this
miracle and sacrifice part of himself to him, to say this is my sacrament,
this is the blood and the body of me, take and eat..

. And he lay his face down next to the penis still hard, his face on his
friends' left thigh, and he feather touched it with his eye lashes and his
friend held him and pulled him up to him and to his face and they held faces
against each other, and they thought the same thoughts, but still could not
say them.

There would be the punch line, or the oh well I tried it once god it was
awful get away from me. That was more what it would be. But his friend held
him round the chest and back like in a vice grip; and those eyes looked into
his and he looked at this boy whose essence, whose love was still tasted and
now in his stomach and it was not awful, the taste of it, the feel, as he
had feared, but quite wonderful, because it was from his true love's, and he
tried not to think it, because he knew this would not last and it would hurt
him the rest of his life when it was over.

It would cling to him, the memory and he would cling to it, and throw his
life away in utter despair afterwards. But he could not help it. He loved
him. He had not called a quorum to discuss this falling in love business. He
just had. It was beyond him.

In his friend's eyes, he saw romance. For him, please, yes. For a time.
Before his friend went back to girls and hearts broke in the night from
everywhere and everyone in the world past present and tomorrow and he was
positioning himself in the crook of his friend's arm and laying his head on
his friend's chest. And each thought, as the not so shy and shyer still boy
felt his own cock massaged by true love, that he was about to make love of
his own and he prayed his friend liked what deep inside him was stirring for
him and him always, alone, and alone. But for a moment they rested.

And each thought, again, but this time, at the same time, "Te adore,
 Antone." Neither one said it however, as his friend moved slowly to the
straining boy's arching (and bigger than his friend's, hehe) hard on, and
touched it with warm breath. It began. The being made love to.

If one had had the courage, the trust, but they could not trust, already too
many sad things had happened to them, and after a time, this would be
another one to add to their lists-

If one had said "Te adore Antone," it might have made a difference. The
other boy would forget in time. But the boy who fell in love with him at
first glance, would always wonder if he himself had said it, or something
like it, would it have made a difference? Would they have been together now?
No, he knew it would not have. But still, he would always wonder, and know
that  that was what kept him together at the same time that it tore him
apart.

His friend began to feed.