Date: Wed, 9 Apr 2003 10:55:34 -0700 (PDT)
From: Thomas-Andre Bardwell <blackdivagod@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Courtship - Part Six

Once I was able to pull myself away from Tim's room, I went
back to my room to get my things.  I sure as hell was not
going to wear what I had on - powder blue tank top and gap
khakis.  I found it necessary to change into something more
suitable especially if we were going to be out in a boat
together for four hours.

As I was changing, I drifted off into a daydream starring
Tim and myself.  We were off in the middle of the lake just
chilling.  We were off on another of our random
conversations about life and sex.  The topic veered more
toward sex as the day wore on.  The exchange would take
place as follows:  "So do you like giving head?"  I would
feign a shocked reaction and then coyly answer him,
seductively licking my lips.  I would then ask him when was
the last time he received head.  He'd cock his head to the
side and give me an incredulous look.  He'd then stare off
into the water contemplating an answer.  "It's been a
while."  He'll finally reply.  "Well, would you be
interested in getting some?"  I'd ask sheepishly.  Tim would
think about it for a minute and want to initially tell me
"no thank you."  But his dick will start to get hard
underneath his faded blue jeans.  He'd squirm and writhe in
his seat giggling uncomfortably.

I then take the initiative and reach over to him and stroke
his leg.  With his dark brown eyes, he'd signal his
approval.  I hungrily fish out his cock and shove its
hardness deep down my throat.  Tim won't be too large but
not too small but just perfect for a blowjob.  At first,
he'd treat the situation as clinically as possible by
specifying how he's not doing anything and imaging some hot
girlfriend of his from long ago.  But as I get more into
sucking on his juicy cock, he glances down at me and
acknowledges that yes, a fag is in fact sucking his cock and
that he fucking loves it!  I work his dick like it's no
tomorrow.  I bob up and down and tease and toy with it until
he's moaning and panting and writhing beneath me.  When he
comes, its explosive; a frantic, gushing orgasm of
unparalleled proportions and I'll suck down every last drop.

Somehow this fantasy carries me away for a bit and I'm
awakened by voices from my next-door neighbor.  Joel, a
former football player himself, is in his room talking to
Tim.  The walls are paper thin, so I start to hear the
mumbling of my name.  I lean up against the wall to hear in
more detail.  "Yeah, I'm about to take this fag fishin' with
me."  Tim brags.  Joel laughs and offers suggestions on how
to keep the fag off of him:  "Fart really loud and make his
faggot ass sick to his stomach"; "Push him into the water if
he makes a pass at you"; "Punch him in his faggot mouth if
he says anything gay and shit."  This is not what makes me
mortified but this last exchange that takes me over the
edge.

"You don't think I'm a fag, do you?" Tim asks.
"Well if you keep talking to one, then yeah, maybe."  Joel
answers.

I'm a fag to Tim.  This absolutely can't be.  I fall out of
my chair and collapse to the floor.  I am both horrified and
disappointed not because the word "fag" is horrifying or
that I'm disappointed that Tim called me that but more so
because I fooled myself into believing that he was really
into me.  That Tim was feasibly interested in me in some
manner.  I was angry with myself for convoluting the signals
and messages twisting them to spell out love.  I was angry
that I let him get deep into me like this.  I was angry that
I foolishly thought that he was somehow different.  I was
angry that I was so easily fooled.  I should have listened
to my friends who warned me against him but I was too blind
to see.  I sat on the floor, mortified, until there was a
soft knock at my door.

"You ready?"
"No, Tim.  I'm not going fishing with you."  I sneered at
him.
"And why not?"  Tim responded playfully.
"Because I don't hang out with people who call me a
`faggot'!"
Tim looked as if he swallowed a ghost.
"Were you going to take any of Joel's suggestions in case
shit happened as we fished?"
Tim didn't say a word.
"Were you, Tim?  Were you going to punch me in my mouth or
throw me overboard?"
Tim tried to speak but I cut him off.
"Fuck you, Tim.  Fuck you."
I slammed the door in his face and went over to my bed
shaking and buzzed.
I shook so badly that I couldn't fall asleep for two hours
afterwards.
Fucking tease.

(This is it gentlemen.  Tim and Tom are over.  This is a
true story so I'm sorry it didn't have an erotic climax but
I thought realism would be more effective.  Cheers.)